But, my dear, I am not well: this therefore may make me the less capable of relishing your raillery. These men vex me. Greville’s obstinate persever-ance, and so near a neighbour, that I cannot avoid seeing him often: poor Mr. Orme’s ill health: these things afflict me. Lady D. urging me, with such strength of reason (I am afraid 1 must say) and with an affection so truly maternal, that I know not how to answer her: and just now 1 have re-ceived a letter, unknown to that good lady, from the Earl of D. laying in a claim, on a certain suppo-sition, that O my dear! how cruel is all this to your Harriet! My grandmamma by her eyes, I see, wishes me to think of marriage, and with Lord D. as all thoughts 1 need not say of what are over My aunt Selby’s eyes are ready to second my grandmamma’s My uncle speaks out on the same side of the question: so do you: so does Lucy. Nancy is silent; she sees my disturbance when I am looked at, and talked to, on this subject So ought Lucy, I think. My soul, my dear is fretted. J have begged leave to pass a fortnight or three weeks with my good Mr. Deane, who rejoiced at the motion: but my grandmother heard my request with tears: she could not spare her Harriet, she told me. My aunt also dried her eyes How, my Char-lotte, could I think of leaving them? Yet could thej r have parted with me, I should surely have been more composed with Mr. Deane than at present I can be any where else. He is more delicate (Shall I be excused to say?) than my uncle.

Were but the news come that the solemnity is over I am greatly mistaken in myself, if 1 should not be more easy than 1 am at present But then I should be more teazed, more importuned, than before. You tell me, the Countess of D. would come down: the very thought of that visit hurts me.

I have no doubt but by this time the knot is tied. God Almighty shower on the heads of both, the choicest of his blessings! 1 should be quite out of humour with myself, if I were not able to offer up this prayer as often as I pray for myself.

I beg of you, my dear, to speed to me the next letters from Italy, be the contents what they will. You know I am armed. Shall the event I wish to be over, either surprise or grieve me? I hope not.

I will not pity Lady Olivia, because she threatened and raved. True love rages not; threatens not. Yet a disappointment in love is a dreadful thing; and may operate, in different minds, different ways; as I have read somewhere.

I shall write to all my friends in town, and at Colnebrook: I trouble you not, therefore, with par-ticular compliments to them.