She cast her eyes that way. She saw me. Saw me greatly affected. She started. She looked again; again started; and, quitting her mother’s hand, now changing pale, now reddening, she arose, and threw her anus about her Camilla O Camilla! was all she said; a violent burst of tears wounding, yet giving some ease to everv heart I was springing to her, and should have clasped her in my arms before them all; but the general taking my hand, as I reached her chair, Dear Grandison, said he, pronouncing in her ear my name, keep your seat. If Clementina remembers her English tutor, she will bid you welcome once more to Bologna. O Camilla, said she, faithful, good Camilla! Now, at last, have you told me truth! It is, it is he! And her tears would flow, as she hid her face in Camil-la’s bosom.

The general’s native pride again shewed itself. He took me aside. I see, Grandison, the conse-quence you are of to this unhappy girl: every one sees it. But I depend upon your honour: you re-member what you said this morning

Good God! said I, with some emotion: I stopt And resuming, with pride equal to his own, Know, Sir, that the man whom you thus remind, calls himself a man of honour; and you, as well as the rest of the world, shall find him so.

He seemed a little abashed. I was flinging from him, not too angrily for him, but for the rest of the company, had they not been attentive to the motions of their Clementina.

We, however, took the bishop’s eye. He came to us.

I left the general; and the bishop led him out, in order to enquire into the occasion of my warmth. When I turned to the company, I found the dear Clementina, supported by the two marchionesses, and attended by Camilla, just by me, passing to-wards the door, in order, it seems, at her motion, to withdraw. She stopt. Ah, chevalier! said she; and reclining her head on her mother’s bosom, seemed ready to faint. I took one hand, as it hung down lifelessly extended (her mother held the other); and kneeling, pressed it with my lips Forgive me la-dies; forgive me, Lady Clementina! My soul overflowed with tenderness, though the moment before it was in a tumult of another kind; for she cast down her eyes upon me with a benignity, that for a long time they all afterwards owned they had not beheld. 1 could not say more. I arose. She moved on to the door; and when there, turned her head, straining her neck to look after me, till she was out of the room I was a statue for a few mo-ments; till the count, snatching my hand, and Fa — ther Marescotti’s, who stood nearest him, We see to what the malady is owing Father, you must join their hands! Chevalier! you will be a Catholic! Will you not? O that you would! said the father Why, why, joined in the count, did we refuse the so-earnestly requested interview, a year and half ago?