Clementina is very sedate. She sent for me and the father soon after you left us. She asked us several questions in relation to you; and insisted on our advice, as religious men, and as we would answer for it to our own consciences. Her first was, Whether we thought there were any hopes of your conversion? I answered negatively.

I don’t expect, said she, that he would be induced to change his religion for a wife, nor even for a crown, were he not convinced of the falsehood of his own, and the truth of ours: but again I ask, Cannot you and Father Marescotti convince his judgment? I should think it would not be so hard a task, learned and good men, as you both are: good man, and modest, and patient, and unpresuming, as he is; who has been so long among Catholics; who came from England so young; has been left so much to his own direction; and who must see the difference of the two religions to the advantage of ours, were he but to judge by the efficacy of each on the lives and manners of the people professing each; for, surely, the men of name and family, who are sent among us by their parents, from the heretic countries, in order to observe our manners, and to improve their own, are not the worst of the people of those countries.

I told her, proceeded the bishop, that, to be impartial, there were bad and good of all nations; that she was not likely to be approached by any of her oion but who were good; that you, chevalier, and Mrs. Beaumont, might convince us that there were good people among the Protestants; and that now-and-then a young man of that profession did actually appear among us, who was not a discredit to his country. But, continued I, I have hereto-fore debated the subject with the Chevalier Gran — dison. You know I was in a manner called upon to do it: and have found him a Protestant upon principle; and that he has a great deal to say for nimself You, father, would not allow me this; but you never entered into close argument with him on the subject, as I have done.

My sister then asked, proceeded the bishop, if I thought that her own religious principles would be endangered, if she became yours, and went with you to England?

We both referred her to certain passages in the paper she gave you.

My heart, said she, could never be proof against a generous and kind treatment. The condescending compliances with my weakness, which my fa — ther, mother, brothers, and uncle, have made, have effected what opposition, and cruelty, as you see, could not. So compassionate, so humane a man, as I think the Chevalier Grandison, and so steady as he is in his principles, so much, you own, as he has to say for himself, joined with the sense I always had, from my mother’s example, of the du — ties of a good wife, will too probably stagger me in my faith: and if so, I shall be unhappy: I shall make my confessor so. I am determined, added she r2