Would to heaven, my dearest life, snatching at her withdrawn hand, that

I were half as good as Miss Byron: I understand you: But time and patience, Sir; nodding to him, and passing him.

Admirable creature! said be, how I adore her.

I hinted to her afterwards, his fear of her despising him. Harriet, answered she, with a serious air, I will do my duty by him I will abhor my own heart, if I ever find in it the shadow of a regard for any man in the world, inconsistent with that which he has a right to expect from me.

I was pleased with her. And found an opportunity to communicate what she said, in confidence, to my lord; and had his blessings for it.

But now for some account of Lady Olivia. With which I will begin a new letter.

Letter XXL

Miss Byron*. In Continuation.

Sir Charles returned with the ladies. He presented to Lady Olivia and her aunt, Lady G. Lord L. and Lord W. I was in another apartment talking with Or. liartlett.

Lady Olivia asked for the doctor. He left me to pay his respects to her.

Sir Charles being informed, that I was in the house, told Lady Olivia, that he hoped he should have the honour of presenting to her one of our English beauties; desiring Lady G. to request my company.

Lady G. came to me A lovely woman, I assure you, Harriet; let me lead you to her.

Sir Charles met me at the entrance of the drawing room: Excuse me, madam, said he, taking my hand, with profound respect, and allow me to introduce you to a very amiable Italian lady Miss Byron, madam, addressing himself to her, salutes p3 you. The advantages of person are her least per-fection.

Her face glowed. Miss Byron! A relation, Sir? In Italian.

He bowed; but answered not her question.

I would sooner forgive you here, whispered Lady Olivia to Sir Charles, in Italian, looking at me, than at Bologna.

I heard her; and by my confusion shewed that I understood her. She was in confusion too.

Mademoiselle, said she, in French, understands Italian. I am ashamed, Monsieur.

Miss Byron does, answered Sir Charles; and French too.

I must have the honour, said she in French, to be better known to you, Mademoiselle.

I answered her as politely as I could in the same language.

Lady Olivia is really a lovely woman. Her complexion is fine. Her face oval. Every feature of it is delicate. Her hair is black; and, I think, I never saw brighter black eyes in my life: if possible, they are brighter, and shine with a more piercing lustre, than even Sir Charles Grandison’s: but yet I give his the .preference; for we see in them a benignity, that hers, though a woman’s, has not; and a thoughtfulness, as if something lay upon his mind, which nothing but patience could overcome; yet mingled with an air that shews him to be equal to any-thing, that can be undertaken by man. While Olivia’s eyes shew more fire and impetuosity than sweetness. Had I not been told it, I should have been sure that she has a violent spirit: but on the whole she is a very fine figure of a woman.