There is no answering a case so strongly put, replied the father. But can a false religion, an heresy, persuade an ingenuous mind as strongly as the true?

Dear Father Marescotti, you know you have said nothing: it would sound harshly to repeat your own question to you; yet that is all I need to do. But let us continue our prayers, that the desirable work may be perfected: that Lady Clementina may be quite recovered. You have seen, madam, that I have not offered to give myself consequence with her. You see the distance I have observed to her: you see nothing in her, not even in her most afflicting reveries, that can induce you to think she has marriage in view. As I told your ladyship at first, I have but one wish at present; and that is, her perfect recovery.

What, father, can we say? resumed the marchioness. Advise us, chevalier. You know our situation. But do not, do not impute ingratitude to us. Our child’s salvation, in our own opinion, is at stake If she be yours, she will not be long a Catholic Once more, advise us.

You generously, I know, madam, think you speak in time, both for the young lady’s sake and mine. You say she shall be mine upon the terms I formerly offered, if I insist upon it. I have told the general, that I will have the consent of all three brothers, as well as yours, madam, and your good lord’s, or I will not hope for the honour of your alliance: and I have declared to you, that I look upon myself as bound; upon you all, as free. If you think that the sense of supposed obligation, as Lady Clementina advances in her health, may engage her further than you wish, let me decline my visits by degrees, in order to leave her as disengaged as possible in her own mind; and that I may not be thought of consequence to her recovery. In the first place, I will make my promised visit to the general. You sec i>,‘i she was not the worse, but, perhaps, the better, for my absence of ten days. I will pass twenty, if you please, at Rome, and at Naples; holding myself in readiness to return post, at the first call. Let us determine nothing in the interim. Depend upon the honour of a man, who once more assures you,, that he looks upon himself as bound, and the lady free; and who will act accordingly by her, and all your family.

They were both silent, and looked upon each other.

What say you, madam, to this proposal? What say you, Father Marescotti? Could I think of a more disinterested one, I would make it.

I say, you are a wonderful man.

I have not words, resumed the lady She wept. Hard, hard fate! The man, that of all men

There she stopt. The father was present, or perhaps, she had said more.