Sir! God is my witness But leave me, leave me, for a few moments. I dare not trust myself with myself.

Command me not to leave you, madam, till you resolve in my favour Say, cannot you be happy in the free exercise of your own religion? Father Marescotti, Camilla, with you In England but one year at a time In Italy, under the re-assuring eye of your father, mother, brothers, the next.

Ah, Sir! you must retire Indeed you must. You leave me not at liberty .You must let me consider On this crisis of time, as far as I know, depends an eternity of happiness or misery.

Command me not from you: bid me not leave you. Obey the tender impulse that, I flatter myself, I discover in my favour. I seek your happiness, in pursuing my own. Your eternal welfare cannot be endangered. My conscience will oblige me to strengthen yours, when I see it is yours Bid me not leave you Excellent Clementina, bid me not leave you!

You must, you must How can I trust myself against a voice, that is the voice of love, and claims my kindness, my justice, my generosity Was I ever ungenerous, unjust, unkind? And if thus stag-gered now, what, were I to be yours, would the superadded sense of my duty do! O leave me, Sir, a few moments, leave me.

Be propitious, madam, be propitious to my hum-ble hope; that is all I will at present say; and now I obey you Profoundly bowing, I withdrew into the next apartment: she to her closet.

I went out slowly; and heard the hasty motion of somebody going out of the apartment, as I entered it. It was, it seems, the bishop, who had placed himself within hearing of what passed between his sister and me, as I had desired he would.

It Mas a full quarter of an hour before I heard her move; and then it was to seek for me.

I was sitting in a pensive mood, revolving the embarrassments I had met with from some of the best of women; and, as you, my dear Dr. Bartlett, know, in different countries; and particularly the unexpected turn which this excellent creature had taken. She approached me with an air of majesty, yet mixed with tenderness. I met her, and with a bent knee, taking her hand My fate hangs upon those lips, said I; and was proceeding; when inter-rupting me O Sir! I hear not, it is not safe for me to hear, that voice, accompanying this manner Let me bend to you: I have been craving the divine di-rection. An irresistible impulse (surely it is that direction) bids me say Yet what can 1 say? If I attempt to argue, I am lost! Does not this shew me, that were J to be yours, I must be all you wish me to be? And then my everlasting peace, my ever-lasting happiness O Sir! I doubt not your justice, your generosity But I fear myself! Seek not, let me repeat, looking a little wildly, seek not, kindest of men, to entangle me with your love.