So you see, Lucy, upon the whole, that I have no great reason to build so much, as my uncle, in his last letter, imagines I do, on the interest of these ladies and my Lord L. with their brother. Two or three intricate affairs on his hands: one of them still in suspense; of which, for that reason, he makes a secret: he is not quite happy: greatly distinguished by the favour of worthy women: who would wonder at that? But has paid dear for the distinction! W hat can one say? What can one think? He once said himself, that his life was a various life; and that some unhappy things had befallen him. If the pru-dence of such a man could not shield him from mis — fortune, who can be exempted from it? And from xaorthy women too! That’s the wonder! But is this Olivia one of the “worthy women? I fancy he must despise us all. I fancy he will never think of incumbering himself with one of a sex, that has made him pay so dear for the general distinction he has met with from it. As to his politeness to us; a man may afford to shew politeness to those he has resolved to keep at distance from his heart.

But, ah, Lucy! There must be one happy wo-man, whom he wishes not to keep at distance. This is the affair, that hangs in suspense; and of which, therefore, he chooses to say nothing. *

I have had the pleasure of a visit from my god-father Deane. He dined with us this day in his way to town. The ladies, Dr. Bartlett, and my Lord L. are charmed with him. Yet I had pain mingled with my pleasure. He took me aside, and charged me so home He was too inquisitive. I never knew him to be so very urgent to know my heart. But I was frank: very frank: I should hardly have been excuseable, if I had not, to so good a man, and so dear a friend. Yet he scarce knew how to be sa-tisfied with my frankness.

He will have it, that I look thinner and paler than I used to do. That may very well be. My very soul, at times I know not how I am Sir Charles is in suspense too, from somebody abroad. From my heart I pity him. Had he but some faults; some great blemishes; I fancy I should be easier about him. But to hear nothing of him, but what is so greatly praise-worthy, and my heart so delighted with acts of beneficence And now, Mr. Deane, at this visit, running on in his praises, and commending, instead of blaming me, for my presumptuous thoughts; nay, exalting me, and telling me, that I. deserve him that I deserve Sir Charles Grandison! Why did he not chide me? Why did he not dissuade me? Neither fortune nor merit answerable! A man who knows so well what to do with fortune! The Indies, my dear, ought to be his! What a king would he make! Power could not corrupt such a mind as his. Caesar, said Dr. Bart-lett, speaking of him before Mr. Deane and all of us, was not quicker to destroy, than Sir Charles Grandison is to relieve. Emily’s eyes, at the time, ran over with joy at the expression; and, drying them, she looked proudly round on us all, as if she had said, This is my guardian!