I pleaded my last absence of ten days, in favour of my intention. Her recovery, said I, must be a work of time. If I am of the consequence your friendship for me supposes, her attention will, probably, be more engaged by short absences, and the expectations raised by them, than by daily visits. I remember not, my dear Jeronymo, continued I, a single instance, that could induce any one to imagine, that your Clementina’s regard for the man you favour was a personal one. Friendship never lighted up a purer flame in ahuman heart, than in that of your sister. Was not the future happiness of the man she esteemed the constant, 1 may say, the only object of her cares? In the height of her malady, Did she not declare, that were that great article but probably secured, she would resign her life with pleasure?

True, very true: Clementina is an excellent creature: she ever was. And you only can deserve her. O that she could be now worthy of you! But are my father, mother, brother, willing to part with you? Do they not, for Clementina’s sake, make objections?

The last absence sitting so easy on her mind, they doubt not but frequent absences may excite her at-tention.

Well, well, I acquiesce. The general and his lady will rejoice to see you. I must not be too self-ish. God preserve you, wherever you go! Only let not the gentle heart of Clementina be wounded by your absence. Don’t let her miss you.

To-morrow, replied I, I will consult her. She shall determine for me.

Letter V.

Sir Charles Grandison. In Continuation.

June 14–25. Having the honour of an invitation to a conversation-visit, to the cardinal legate, and to meet there the gonfalonier, I went to the palace of Porretta in the morning.

After sitting about half an hour with my friend Jeronymo, I was admitted to the presence of Lady Clementina. Her parents and the bishop were with her. Clementina, chevalier, said her mother, was enquiring for you. She is desirous to recover her English. Are you willing, Sir, to undertake your pupil again?

Ah, chevalier, said the young lady, those were happy times, and I want to recover them. I want to be as happy as I was then.

You have not been very well, madam: and is it not better to defer our lectures for some days, till you are quite established in your health?

Why, that is the thing. I know I have been very ill: I know that I am not yet quite well; and 1 want to he so: and that is the reason that 1 would reco-ver my English.

You will soon recover it, madam, when you begin. But at present, the thought, the memory, it would require you to exert, would perplex you. 1 am afraid the study would rather retard, than forward your recovery.

Why, now, I did not expect this from you, Sir. My mamma has consented.