Mrs, O^Hara. Weak spirits, my lord! A child to have spirits too weak to see her mother! And she felt for her handkerchief.

Miss Gr. It sounds a Httle harshly, I own, to deny to a mother the sight of her daughter; but unless my brother wpre present, I think, my lord, it cannot be allowed.

Major. Not allowed, madam!

Capt. A moder to be denied to see her daughter! Jesu! and he crossed himself.

Mrs. O’Hara (putting her handkerchief to hide her eyes, for it seems she wept not). I am a very unhappy mother indeed

Major (embracing her). My dearest honey! My love! I must not bear these tears Would to God Sir Charles was here, and thought fit But I came not here to threaten You, my lord, are a man of the greatest honour; so is Sir Charles. But what-ever were the misunderstandings between husband and wife, they should not be kept up and propa-gated between mother and child. My wife at pre sent desires only to see her child: that’s all my lord. Were your brother present, madam, he would not deny her this. Then again embracing his wife, My dear soul, be comforted. You will be allowed to see your daughter; no doubt of it. I am able to protect and right you My dear soul, be comforted.

She sobbed. Miss Grandison says; and the good-natured Lord L. was moved Let Miss Jervois be asked, said he, if she chooses to come down.

I will go to her myself, said Miss Grandison.

She came down presently again

Miss Byron and Miss Jervois, said she, are gone out together in the chariot.

Major. Nay, madam

Capt. Upon my salvation this must not pass And he swaggered about the room.

Mrs. O’Hara looked with an air of incredulity.

SIK CIIAULES GRANDrSON.

It was true, however; for the poor girl being ready to faint, I was called in to her. Lady L. had been making a visit in the chariot; and it had just brought her back. O save me, save me, dear madam, said Miss Emily to me, wringing her hands. I can-not, I cannot see my mother out of my guardian’s presence. And she will make me own her new hus-band. I beseech you, save me; hide me.

I saw the chariot from the window, and, without asking any questions, I hurried Miss Emily down stairs, and conducted the trembling dear into it; and stepping in after her, ordered the coachman to drive any where except towards London: and then the poor girl threw her arms about my neck, smo-thering me with her kisses, and calling me by all the tender names that terror and mingled gratitude could suggest to her.

Miss Grandison told the circumstances pretty near as above; adding, I think, my lord, that Miss Emily wants not apology for her terror on this oc-casion. That lady, in her own heart, knows that the poor girl has reason for it.