At last, You will, said she, have the general and the bishop with you. Ah, Sir! my poor young lady! What has she suffered since you left us! You will not know her. We are not sure she will know you. Who shall be able to bear the first interview? She has now but few intervals. It is all one gloomy confusion with her. She cares not to speak to any-body. Every stranger she sees, terrifies her. O the vile, thrice vile Lady Laurana!

In this manner ran on Camilla: nor would she enter into any other particulars than the unhappy ones she left me to collect from the broken hints and exclamations thus thrown out. Alas! thought I, the calamities of Clementina have affected the head of the poor Camilla! She hurried away, lest she should be wanted, and lest the general should find her with me.

The two brothers came soon after. The general took my hand, with a kind of forced politeness: We are all obliged to you, Sir, said he, for your Mr. Lowther. Are the surgeons of England so famous? But the people of your nation have been accustomed to give wounds: they should therefore furnish operators to heal them. We are obliged to you also for the trouble you have given yourself in coming over to us in person. Jeronymo has found a revival of spirits upon it: God grant they may not subside! But, alas! our sister! Poor Clementina! She is lost!

Would to God, said the bishop, we had left her to the care of Mrs. Beaumont.

The general himself, having taken her from Flo-rence, would not join in this wish. There was a middle course, he said, that ought to have been taken. But Laurana is a daughter of the devil, said he; and Lady Sforza ought to be detested for upholding her.

The general expressed himself with coldness on my coming over; but said, that now I vjas on the spot, and as his sister had been formerly desirous of seeing me, an interview might be permitted, in or-der to satisfy those of the family who had given me the invitation, which it was very good of me to ac-cept; especially as I had the Lady Olivia in Eng — land attending my motions: but otherwise he had no opinion There he stopt.

I looked upon him with indignation, mingled with contempt: and directing myself to the bishop, You remember, my lord, said 1, the story of Naaman the Syrian*.

What is that, my lord? said he to the bishop.

Far be it from me, continued I, still directing myself to the bishop, to presume upon my own consequence in the application of the story: but your lordship will judge how far the comparison will hold. Would to God it might throughout !

A happy allusion, said the bishop. I say, Amen.