They dropt away one by one, and I found myself left alone with him. Sweetly tender was his address to me! How shall I part with my Harriet? said he. My eyes were ready to overflow. By a twinkling motion, I thought to disperse over the whole eye the self-felt too-ready tear: my upper-lip had the motion in it, throbbing, like the pulsation which we call the life blood I was afraid to speak, for fear of bursting into a fit of tenderness; yet was conscious that my very silence was more expressive of tenderness than speech could have been. With what delight did his eager eye (as mine, now-and-then glancing upward, discovered) meditate my downcast face, and silent concern! Yet such was his delicacy, that he took not that notice of it, in word, ^vhich,if be had, would have added to my confusion; it was cnougli for him, thiit lie saw it. As he was contented silcntlij to enjoy it, I am not sorry lie did see it. He merited even open and unreserved as-surances of love. But I the sooner recovered my spirits, for his delicate non-observance. I could not, circumstanced as we were, say I ivi.s/icd for his speedy return; yet, my dear, my purest wishes were, that he would not he long absent. My grand-mamma pleases herself with having the dear man for her inmate, on his return: there is therefore no need, for the sake of the world’s speech, to abridge my month; yet oit2:ht we to be shy of giving consequence to a man wiio through delicacy is afraid to let us see that he assumes consequence from our speeeJiless tenderness for him? He restored me to speech, by a chai.ge of subject

Two melancholy offices shall I have to perform, said he, before I have the honour to attend again my dearest IMiss B\ ron: What must be the heart that melts not at another’s v.oe! As to Sir Ilar-grave, I don’t apprehend that he is near his end; as is the case of poor Sir Harry. Sir Hargrave la-bours under bodily pains, from the attack made upon him in France, aiid from a constitution ruined per-haps by riot; and, having nothing of consolation to give himself from I’efljctions on his past life (as we see by his letter) his fears are too strong for his hopes. But shall I tell him, if I find it will give him comfort, that ijou wish his recovery, and are sorry for his indis[)osition? Small crevices let in light, sometimes upon a beiughted imagination. He must consider his attempt upon your free-will (though not meant upon yoiu” honour) as one of the enor-mities of his past iii’e.

I was overpowered with this instance of hi.’^ gene-rous goodness. ‘i’( ach me, Sir, to be j^ood, to he generous, to be Ibrgiving like you! Bid me do what ycu think proper for me to do Say to the poor man, whose insults upon you in his challenge were then my terror (O how much my terror!) in ray name, say, all that you think will tend to give him consolation.