She led him by the hand to the other end of the room. Let nobody hear us, said she: yet spoke not low. What had I to say? I had something to say to you very earnestly. I don’t know what

Well, don’t puzzle yourself, my dear, to recollect it, said the general. Your new sister loves you. She is the best of women. She is the joy of my life. Love your new sister, my Clementina. am. CHARLES GRANDISON. 15

So I will. Don’t I love every-body?

But you must love her better than any other wo-man, the best of mothers excepted. She is my wife, and your sister; and she loves both you, and our dear Jeronymo.

And no-body else? does she love no-body else?

Whom else would you have her love?

I don’t know. But every-body, I think; for 1 do.

Whomever you love, she will love. She is all goodness.

Why that’s well. I will love her, now I know who she is. But, Sir, I have some notion

Of what, my dear?

I don’t know. But pray, Sir, What brings the chevalier over hither again?

To comfort you, your father, mother, Jeronymo: to comfort us all. To make us all well, and happy in each other.

Why that’s very good. Don’t you think so? But he was always good. Are you, brother, happy?

I am, and should be more so, if you and Jerony-mo were.

But that can never, never be.

God forbid! my sister. The chevalier has brought over with him a skilful man, who hopes to cure our Jeronymo.

Has the chevalier done this? Why did he not do so before?

The general was a little disconcerted; but ge-nerously said, We were wrong; we took not right methods. I, for my part, wish we had followed his advice in every-thing.

Bless me! holding up one hand. How came all these things about! Sir, Sir, with quickness 1 will come again presently And was making to the door.

Camilla stept to her Whither, whither, my dear young lady? ()! Camilla will do as well Camilla, c ‘2 laying her hand upon her shoulder, go to Father Marescotti Tell him There she stopt: then proceeding, Tell him, I have seen a vision He shall pray for us all.

Then stepping to her mother, and taking her passive hand, she kissed it, and stroked her own forehead and cheek with it Love me, madam; love your child. You don’t know, neither do 1, what ails my poor head. Heal it! Heal it! with your gentle hand! Again stroking her forehead with it; then putting it to her heart.

The marchioness, kissing her forehead, made her face wet with her tears.

Shall I, said Camilla, go to Father Marescotti?

No, said the general, except she repeats her commands. Perhaps she has forgot him already. She said no more of Father Marescotti.