September 22. I WAS surprized to-day by a visitor to my mother. Miss Burchell came to pay her respects to her: I have told you they corresponded. My mother, it seems, had given her notice of the time she intended being in town: the young lady had been to wait on her in St. James's-street, and was from thence directed by the servant, who kept the house, to our new lodgings.

   She is really a very lovely young woman; and there is something so insinuating in her manner, that there is no seeing her without being prejudiced in her favour. She changed colour when my mother presented me to her by my name; but, at the same time, surveyed me with a scrutinous eye. My mother asked her, had she seen Mr. Faulkland since his return to England. She answered, No, with a sigh; but that she believed he had been at Putney. To see his son? said my mother, without reflecting, that Miss Burchell had avoided mentioning that circumstance, and stopped upon naming the place where the child was at nurse. Yes, she replied, in a timorous accent, and stealing a look at me. The woman told me, that a young gentleman had been there about six weeks ago, who said he came from the child's father abroad, and made her a handsome present. As I did not then know Mr. Faulkland was returned to England, I should not have suspected it was he himself who had called, if his housekeeper (that gentlewoman in whose

   My mother told her, that as Mr. Faulkland was returned again, probably to continue in England, she did not despair of his being brought o do her justice; especially as she must suppose the sight of the child had made an impression on him. She then, without ceremony, entered into a detail of my unhappy story: she was full of it; and being, as you know, of a very communicative temper, made no scruple to inform Miss Burchell of every particular. She seemed very much affected with the story, and grew red and

   Upon Miss Burchell's taking leave, my mother gave her a general invitation to come to her as often as she had leisure: telling her, she must not take it amiss if she did not return her visits, as her health would not permit her to go much abroad.

   Miss Burchell, it seems, has a house (not lodgings) in a retired street in Westminster, where she has been ever since she quitted her aunt, to whom she never discovered where she lived. Her fortune enables her to appear very genteely in the private manner she chooses to live. She

   September 28. -- -I have had a letter from Patty: she tells me her master is returned home; and adds, 'To be sure, that vile wicked wretch let him know you were gone.' She says, he called for the two dear babes, and kissed them both. Patty carried the youngest to him in her arms, the other in her hand, and she says, he looked troubled. How came you not to follow your lady, Mrs. Martha? said he. She replied, My lady was willing, Sir, that I should stay to look after the children -- And to be a spy upon my actions, I suppose: Is not that to be part of your employment too? Ah! Patty, Patty; Mrs. Arnold had better have looked to her own

   October 7. -- -I have just received a letter from lady V -- . She tells me she sent twice to invite Mr. Arnold to dine with them, in order, if possible, to lead him into a conversation, by which they hoped, in some measure, to have cleared my innocence, as my lord could take upon him to justify Mr. Faulkland; but he declined coming, not knowing, perhaps, that Mr. Faulkland was absent from V -- hall. She said, her lord had gone to South-park; but neither Mr. Arnold was not at home, or denied himself. My lady adds, 'It is a delicate affair to interpose in; yet would I have ventured to have wrote to

   I shall answer lady V -- 's letter directly, and beg of her to leave the matter as it is. Mrs. Gerrarde's testimony will have more weight than all my good lord or lady could urge in my favour: besides, they are not furnished with sufficient weapons to combat against such an enemy: they know nothing of Miss Burchell's story; my regard to her character prevented me from giving my lady this specimen of her aunt's baseness. I suppose the same reason may have closed Mr. Faulkland's lips on that subject: so that they have nothing to allege against Mrs. Gerrarde, which would help to invalidate her testimony with regard to Mr. Faulkland and me. Mr. Arnold, indeed, knows that she has forfeited her pretensions to modesty; but the

   I cannot think of exposing the poor Miss Burchell by giving up her secret. Though it might contribute to clear me, by turning Mr. Arnold's suspicions on Mrs. Gerrarde, yet would she have great reason to resent it; more especially as she is now, by a blameless life, endeavouring to blot out the memory of her fault. Though my lady V -- is very prudent, her zeal for me, and my lord's good-natured earnestness in my cause, might render them unguarded on the occasion; and should they attempt to make use of this secret, in order to criminate Mrs. Gerrarde, it might at the same time, bring malicious censures both on Miss Burchell and Mr. Faulkland.

   I think, upon the whole, my mother is the properest person to mediate on this nice occasion. When Mr. Arnold comes to town; she can, with due tenderness to

   October 12. -- -How the scene is changed, my Sister! What a melancholy reverse is here, to my late prospect of domestic happiness! I pass my nights in tears and bitter reflections on my dismal situation. My days are spent in a painful constraint, to conceal the anguish of my own heart, that I may not aggravate that of my poor mother. My endeavours to be chearful, I perceive, have a good effect on her: she

   I have prevailed on her not to give Sir George an account of my unhappy story, till I hear that Mr. Faulkland has left him; because I know my brother would conceal nothing from him; and, if possible, I would have Mr. Arnold's suspicions of Him concealed. I have many reasons for this; my own delicacy would receive a wound by it; for who knows what judgment Mr. Faulkland might form on this knowledge? But my most material objection is, should he attempt to vindicate his own honour, what might be the consequence! I shudder to think of it. I know Mr. Faulkland is rash, when provoked. Rather let my sufferings and my disgrace lie wrapped in oblivion, than bring any disaster on the father of my children.

   October 16. -- -Another letter from lady V -- . She tells me, that Mr. Faulkland is returned from his visit to my brother. He was soon informed of my parting with Mr. Arnold: 'tis the talk of the neighbourhood; every body lays it on Mrs. Gerrarde. Mr. Faulkland was very inquisitive to learn particulars from my lady, which, he said, he was sure I had told her; but she took care not to give him the least hint which could lead him to suppose that He had any share in my fate. She says, he raves like a madman; and that she finds it absolutely necessary to keep him in ignorance of the truth. She was obliged to tell him, that my having discovered Mr. Arnold's amour with Mrs. Gerrarde, she believed, was the sole cause of our separation. He asked her, Was she sure there was no other? adding, That he thought my temper had been too gentle to fly, on a sudden, to such extremes. My lady took occasion to ask

   I hope Mr. Faulkland may not suspect how much he is concerned in my misfortune; my absenting myself, for some time before I left home, from V -- hall, and my departure from my husband, immediately after my interview with Mr. Faulkland at Mrs. Gerrarde's, may raise some distrust in his mind; but, while it continues merely surmise, he can have no pretence for requiring an explanation from Mr. Arnold; so that if my husband keeps his own council, which he seems inclined to do, and my lord and lady V -- preserve the secret, I shall rest satisfied.

   October 20. -- -My mother has wrote to Sir George, and given him a full account of my situation, with a request, which I prevailed on her to make, that

   October 22. -- -With what a tortoise pace does time advance to the wretched! how dismal are those hours which are spent in reflecting on lost happiness! O Faulkland! how light was thy transgression, if we consider the consequences, compared to that which has driven me from my

   We keep ourselves intirely concealed from the knowlege of all our acquaintance; not a mortal visits us, but, now-and-then, Miss Burchell; and I have never stirred out of doors but to church.

   October 28. -- -Sir George has answered my mother's letter, just as I feared he would: he speaks of Mr. Arnold with more contempt and aversion, than he does of me with pity or brotherly kindness. He says, 'It is well for him, that Mr. Faulkland knows not of his injurious suspicion of him, or he would vindicate himself in a manner he little thinks of.' He tells us, he does not know (at this distance) how to advise; but that as I am of so patient and forbearing a spirit, he thinks my wrongs may sleep till he comes

   October 29. -- -My comforts are circumscribed within a very narrow compass; for I cannot reckon one, but what I receive from poor Patty's letters, who never fails to send me weekly an account of my dear little children. They are well, thank God, and not yet abandoned by their father; but even the knowledge of this is imbittered by repeated hints of Mr. Arnold's lost condition. Lost, I may call it: for his whole soul is absorbed in the mad pursuit of his own ruin. The poor girl, in the bitterness of her indignation, tells me, he has made Mrs. Gerrarde a present of a favourite little pad of mine: she says, she had a mind to tear her off, when she saw her mounted upon it.

   I wish not to be told of amy of Mr. Arnold's motions, and should forbid Patty to write to me any thing on the subject,

   October 30. -- -A lady of our acquaintance, who happened to see me at church, came to pay me a visit to-day. It seems, she is intimate with the widow Arnold, who told her, very lately, that she was impatient for the commencement of term, as she then expected the cause depending between her and us would be brought to a final issue, and determined intirely in her child's favour. This account alarmed my poor mother so much, that she could not be easy till she sent for our lawyer,

   November 4. -- -Six melancholy weeks are gone since I have been here, I may say, both a prisoner and a fugitive. I count the days as they pass, as if I expected

   November 15. -- -My brother is arrived in town sooner than we expected, and came this evening to pay us a visit. My altered and dejected looks, I believe, shocked him; but George wants tenderness, or at least a capacity of shewing it. After a recapitulation of my

   Dear brother, said I, I conjure you (and I fell upon my knees and clasped both

   I give you my word, madam, answered Sir George, I will not attempt to hold any conference with Mr. Arnold without your knowledge. Will that satisfy you? It does, answered my mother; for I think I can rely upon your word. Sir George left us not very well satisfied with each other; his pride and resentment piqued to the highest. I cannot censure him for it here: he has cause; but the case is a nice and difficult one. The gratification of a private spleen ought not to enter into the measures he should pursue. Glad I am that my mother's properly-exerted resolution has tamed him a little. Though George sometimes fails in the respect which he owes her, yet I never knew him wilfully to disobey her commands, or oppose her inclinations. 'Tis well there is any hold on a disposition so ungentle and self-willed as his.

   November 18. -- -My brother has taken a very handsome house in Pall-mall, and told my mother, between jest and earnest, he is going to give her a daughter-

   Nov. 20. -- -Mr. Arnold is arrived in town: he came late last night, and his man called this morning to inquire how I did. The poor fellow stole out before his master was up; and was afraid of staying a minute, lest he should be wanted at home. I called him up to the dining-room: I saw an honest shame and sorrow in his countenance. How does your master do, Frank? said I: Has he brought the children to town? No, madam, said he; but they are pure and hearty. I believe my master thought it a pity to bring them out of the fresh air, as long as Mrs. Patty is there to look after them. They are better where they are. I asked him, was Mr. Arnold come to town to make

   November 22. -- -I have not seen my brother these two days: he does not know, I believe, that Mr. Arnold is come to town; though, if he did, I am sure he will not break his word; so that I am easy on that particular. My mother says she will go to Mr. Arnold herself, to reason with him a little. I shall not oppose it, though I have no hopes of her being able to effect any thing in my favour: she is now laid up with a cold, and is not able to come out of her room; but she pleases herself with the thoughts of this visit, as soon as she is able to make it. She has planned

   November 23. -- -Amazing, my dear Cecilia! I thought I should wonder no more at any thing, yet is my wonder now raised to astonishment -- I have just received a letter from lady V -- . I have read it over and over again, and can yet scarce believe my senses. Here it is in her own words:

   'I suppose you know, my dear Mrs. 'Arnold, that your husband is in town; and that he left Mrs. Gerrarde behind him for no other reason, I imagine, but that he did not choose to be quite so scandalous as to let her travel with him; for we heard that she purposed following him in a few days. Patty, I conclude, may have informed you of thus much; but the extraordinary part of the intelligence,

   'I am very glad, for your sake, that bad creature has quitted your husband; but that she should have drawn my cousin Faulkland in, is matter of serious concern to me. It is evident the plan was previously concerted between them; for I am informed to-day, that Mrs. Gerrarde's maid decamped at the same time, and took with her every thing valuable belonging to her mistress, several of her drawers being found open and empty. Mr. Faulkland's servants have also disappeared; so that we cannot conjecture which way they are gone.'

   'Mr. Faulkland, who was about leaving us, asked my permission to give a ball to the neighbouring ladies in our new room, which is just finished. As I concluded he would ask nobody but our own acquaintance, I readily consented; and my lord, you know, is fond of those frolics. I own I was surprized to see Mrs. Gerrarde amongst the company, as undaunted as the modestest face there. I would not however affront Mr. Faulkland so much, as to shew any disrespect to one, who was, at that time, his guest; but I was out of all patience to find that she, along with several others, was asked to supper; my too-good-natured lord joining in the invitation. Mr. Faulkland made a pretence to wait on her home, and the audacious creature took that opportunity to march off with him.

   'Now, as Faulkland really purposed leaving V -- hall the next day, I think it would have been but decent in him to have forebore this piece of barefaced libertinism, till he was fairly from under

   'I am quite angry with my lord, for only laughing at this, and calling it a piece of spirited gallantry in them both. He says, he is delighted to think how your good man will shake his ears, when he hears his mistress has left him in the lurch, and gone off with another lover. I should smile too; but that it makes me sad to think, that Mr. Faulkland, of whom I had so good an opinion, should so impose upon my judgment, and forfeit his own character, for so vile a creature.'

   'Pardon me, my dear madam; I am so full of my own reflections, on the interest I take in this affair, that I have been forgetful of how much more moment it may be to you. Heaven grant that your husband may think of making himself amends, in returning to a faithful and amiable wife, for the loss of a

   Well, my Cecilia, what say you to this? Are you not as much surprized as I am? Mr. Faulkland to emerge at last the favoured gallant of Mrs. Gerrarde! Prodigious! I confess, my dear, I am so selfish as not to participate with lady V -- in her uneasiness on this occasion. That Mrs. Gerrarde flies from my husband, I am glad; and that Mr. Faulkland is the very man she chose to fly with, I am still gladder: he, of all men living, I would have wished (though least expected) to be the person. This explains every thing that is passed. Surely, as Lady V -- says, this must open Mr. Arnold's eyes. I can now discover a double

   Let her views have been what they would, this event was beyond my hopes. Some glimmerings of comfort begin to break in upon me. Methinks my heart feels much lighter than it did. How Sir George will stare at this account! My mother will life up her eyes; but she has no opinion of Mr. Faulkland's morals, and therefore will be the less surprized. I pity Miss Burchell: this is an irremediable bar to her hopes; faint and unsupported as they were before, they must now intirely vanish.

   November 24. -- -I gave you a copy of Lady V -- 's letter, while the subject was warm at my heart, and before I shewed it to any one; but my mother and my brother have now both seen it. My mother (just as I expected) without any great emotions of surprize, only exclaimed against their wickedness; but said, she could not help rejoicing in it, as I, she hoped, would derive happiness from their accumulated crimes. Sir George read the letter twice over before he uttered a word; and then said, It was strange; upon his soul, most unaccountable; and that either Faulkland was run mad, or that woman had bewitched him. When he was with me, said he, at Sidney Castle, he did not so much as mention her. I asked him, whether he was acquainted with Mr. Arnold (for I had written him word of your marriage, when he was abroad)? He told me he had seen both you and him two or three times at lord V -- 's; but that, as he did not wish to renew his acquaintance with you, he had never visited your husband. I presume

   My mother now began to exult over

   Sir George was too much mortified at the flagrant misconduct of his friend to attempt excusing him: he contented himself with repeating, It was the strangest thing he ever knew in his life.

   My mother then told him Mr. Arnold was come to town; and that, as things had taken such a turn, she hoped herself to be able to bring him to the use of his judgment; and therefore thought it would not be at all necessary for my brother to interfere. Sir George said, With all his heart; if her ladyship should be able to patch up a reconciliation that would save

   November 25. -- -I have had a letter from Patty, who confirms my lady V -- 's account of the lover's flight; and she tells me one of Mrs. Gerrarde's servants is gone off express to town; I suppose, to bring Mr. Arnold the news; for they are all in confusion at her house, and know not what is become of their mistress; but they are certain she is gone with Mr. Faulkland. Patty adds, The servants believe this scheme had been long concerted, Mr. Faulkland having been a private visitor to their mistress for a good while.

   I must confess I am astonished at it: it has sunk the man extremely in my opinion.

   November 26. -- -Miss Burchell has just been here. Poor creature! she is quite stunned with the news: she could scarce believe it at first, till my mother desired I would shew her lady V -- 's letter, and Patty's, which corroborated all she said. She then gave way to tears and lamentations; saying, That cruel woman was born to be the destruction of every-body she had any connection with. I have found it so; you, madam (to me) have done so too; Mr. Arnold, I believe, has been a great sufferer; Mr. Faulkland is now her victim. Inconsiderate and barbarous as he is, I grieve for him.

   November 30. -- -I have heard nothing of Mr. Arnold. Indeed it is hardly possible that I should: we are shut up here from all commerce with the world. My mother's illness has confined her to her bed-chamber; we admit no visitors, and I never leave her. I long to know how he takes the ingratitude of his mistress; but I see nobody who converses with him. My brother and Miss Burchell are the

   December 1. -- -I have been almost asleep, my dear Cecilia, for this week past; but I have been rouzed this morning in a most extraordinary manner. Sir George called on us; he ran up stairs in a violent hurry; and had a countenance, when he entered the room, that spoke wonders before he opened his mouth. He hardly gave himself time to ask me how I did (though he had not sen me for three days) before he took a bundle of papers out of his pocket, which he gave me. 'Tis from Faulkland, said he, and may be worth your knowlege. Upon opening the cover, I found it contained, at least, four sheets of paper, written on every side. Bless me, brother, said I, do you expect

   I am in haste to vindicate myself to you, but in much more haste to do so to Mrs. Arnold, who, if she bestows a thought at all on me, must, I am sure, hold me in the utmost contempt; and great reason would she have, if things were always as they appear. Methinks I see her beautiful scorn at hearing I had carried off Mrs. Gerrarde. What a paltry fellow you must think me too. And yet I have carried her off, and she is now

   You are to know then, that as Arnold's amour with Mrs. Gerrarde was no secret at V -- hall, from the moment I heard it, I meditated a design of breaking the detestable union; not out of regard either to him or her, but in hopes of restoring, to the most amiable of women, a besotted husband's heart, which nothing but downright magic, infernal witchcraft, could have robbed her of. The woman is handsome, 'tis true; but she is a silly toad, and as fantastic as an ape. I had formed this design, I say, from the first notice I had of the intrigue; and, in consequence of this, resolved to renew my acquaintance with Mrs. Gerrarde: for I had known her before; known her to my cost. She

   How I ramble from my subject! I meant only to tell you what my design was in carrying off Mrs. Gerrarde. In order to effect it, as I said before, it was necessary for me to renew my acquaintance with

   On my return from visiting you, the first news I heard at V -- hall was, that Mr. Arnold and his lady were parted. I curst my own dilatoriness, that I had not executed my plan before things were brought to such extremities; for I well knew it was that artful fiend who had occasioned it, though I then little thought how fatally I had contributed towards the misfortune of the ever-amiable and most-respectable of women.

   Lady V -- told me, that your sister

   I set out for Wiltshire the next morning; and though there was something odd in the whole of this incident, I believed it was owing to chance alone, and thought no more of it, till, upon my lord V -- 's telling me the true cause of your sister's disgrace, I found that this serpent had laid the whole plan on purpose

   I own to you, Sir George, in the first motions of my rage, I could have stabbed Arnold, Mrs. Gerrarde, and myself; but my lord V -- calmed my transports, by telling me, that it was your sister's earnest request that this detestable secret should be kept from my knowlege; and that lady V -- , who had intrusted to him with it, would never forgive him, if she knew he had divulged it. This reflection brought me back to my senses, and I burned with impatience to execute my first plan, which Mrs. Gerrarde's repeated crimes now called upon me to accelerate. I communicated my design to lord V -- , who was delighted with it; for he perfectly adores your sister. This, said he, though not such a vengeance as that wicked woman deserves, must

   Having settled my measures with lord V -- , I went to pay a visit to Mrs. Gerrarde. The cockatrice affected to speak with surprize and concern of your sister's separation from her husband. I asked her, had she, who was so intimate with both, heard any reason assigned for it? She shook her head, and by a pretended sorrow in her looks, and a mysterious silence, invited me to press for an explanation of her meaning. She told me at length, with a seeming reluctance, that 'poor Mrs. Arnold, though to be sure she was a sensible woman, was not without the little frailties and passions of her sex; and that, astonishing and groundless as her suspicions were, she had taken it into her head to be jealous of Mr. Arnold; and with whom do you think, of all people in the world she suspects him?' I cannot imagine, said I. Why truly with me, replied the undaunted Jezebel, and

   The measures I had to observe required some management. It would not answer the full extent of my purpose to rob Mr. Arnold of his dear, if it did not appear at the same time that she had left him with her own consent. To bring about this, it was necessary that the flight on her part should seem premeditated; which would not carry any face, unless she took with her such of her moveables as were most valuable. This I knew could not be done without the assistance of her maid, whom I therefore not only resolved to trust, but also to make her a partner in her mistress's elopement.

   Having settled thus much of my plan in my own mind, I began my operations, by making the maid presents every time I visited the mistress; and I took care to give those visits as much the air of an amour as I possibly could. I dare swear the girl thought Mrs. Gerrarde and I were

   In short, we carried on a private intercourse,

   Having thus laid the foundation of my plot, I made no doubt of being able to execute it, with my lord V -- 's assistance: he was in raptures at the thoughts of our enterprize, and swore he would never have forgiven me, if I had not allowed him a share in it. He said, I would give my right-hand to make Mrs. Arnold happy; adding, besides it will save her husband from destruction; for to my knowlege, that woman has already almost ruined his fortune.

   I asked him, might we venture to let my lady into the secret? He said, by no means: my lady was too squeamish to be trusted with such a notable exploit; but,

   I fretted to death at Arnold's staying so long in the country, as it delayed my enterprize. There was one circumstance indeed that a little compensated for this vexation; and that was, that my long stay at V -- hall, which could be no secret to him, though he dropped visiting there on purpose to avoid me, might in some measure help to efface his injurious suspicions with regard to his lady and me; besides, it gave the better colour to my other designs.

   At last the long-sought-for opportunity arrived. Arnold was obliged to go to London on his law-affairs. I took care to inform myself of the day from Mrs. Gerrarde's maid; and learnt at the same time that her mistress purposed going to town in a week after; for she still endeavoured to save appearances, and dared to the last to pretend to reputation. I proposed giving a ball, to take my leave of the ladies,

   This was at the distance of eight days from the appointed time. In the interim, I continued to visit Mrs. Gerrarde as usual, and took care to bespeak her for a partner. Arnold went to town as opportunely as we could wish. I called on Mrs. Gerrarde the same morning; and having my lord's permission for it, engaged her to come early enough to drink tea, as there were a good many more ladies invited for the same purpose; and, at going away, I dropped a few mysterious hints to her maid.

   In the evening there was a very large company met at V -- hall; and having

   I needed no arguments to persuade the girl; the thing appeared plausible enough: She was fully convinced of the intimacy between her mistress and me; and knowing her too well to have a doubt of her baseness, she concluded I acted by Mrs. Gerrarde's directions, and promised punctually

   Whether any of the keys I gave her would fit the locks or not, I was not much concerned; if they did not, I concluded she would think her mistress had made a mistake, and that she would force them open rather than fail. Having settled this material point, I got back to my lord V -- 's, without having been missed by the company.

   Our ball was very well conducted; I danced with Mrs. Gerrarde, and we passed a very agreeable evening. We supped at twelve, and she had ordered her chariot to come a little after that hour; but I had given my fellows their cue. As the dancing was not renewed, the company broke up between one and two. Mrs. Gerrarde was one of the first that offered to go; but as her servants were not to be found, she

   Mrs. Gerrarde was not immediately aware of our gong out of the road; she was in high spirits, and I kept her in chat. As soon as she perceived it, she cried out, with some surprize, Lord, Mr. Faulkland! where is the fellow carrying us? He has missed his way. She called to him; but the coachman, who had orders not to stop unless I spoke to him, only drove the faster. Pray do call to him, said she; the wretch has certainly got drunk with

   At the sight of two horsemen, who were apparently waiting for us, she screamed out, Oh, the villain! he has brought us here to be robbed. She had a good many jewels on her; and, to say the truth, had some reason for her fears. The chariot had now got on a good open road, and the horses rather flew than galloped. The two horsemen joined us, and kept up with us at full speed. I saw she was heartily frightened, and thought it time to undeceive her. I was not ill-natured enough to keep her longer under the apprehensions

   I was glad our altercations had a short truce, by the chariot's stopping at the gardener's cottage, where I had ordered my equipage to wait. All the family were in bed but the man's wife, who came curt'sying to the door. I led, or rather lifted, Mrs. Gerrarde out of the chariot; for she would not give me her hand; and begging she would repose herself for a few minutes, whilst I gave orders to my servants, put her into the good woman's hands. She went sullenly in, without making me any answer: and seeing no-body but the old woman, she was convinced that complaints, or an attempt to escape, would be equally fruitless, and so prudently acquiesced. I soon dispatched my orders: I made the footman, who came behind the chariot, mount the box, and directed him to drive to an inn in the next village to Mrs. Gerrarde's house, and from thence to send it home by some one who did not know to whom he belonged. I then ordered my own equipage to the

   I believe, madam, said I, you are by this time convinced that my scheme is too well laid to be baffled by any efforts you can make. I mean to treat you with due respect, and beg you will use me with a little more gentleness than you have done; that is all the favour I shall ask in return, till you yourself are disposed to shew more.

   You are the most amazing creature, said she, that ever breathed! What is the meaning that, in the whole course of our acquaintance, your behaviour never gave me room to believe that you were serious in your designs on me, and now at once you souse upon your prey like a hawk? I'll answer you in two words, said I. When we first met, you had a husband; since the renewal of our acquaintance (you'll pardon me) it was no secret that you had a favoured lover in Mr. Arnold: I am not of a temper to solicit a lady by stealth, and I would not give a pinch of snuff for the woman who is not entirely at my disposal. Your attachments to Arnold forbad this, and I was determined to have you all to myself. My attachments to Mr. Arnold! cried she, impudently, again. Ay, said I, coolly, it began to be talked of so openly, that your reputation was mangled at every tea-table in the country; and had you staid much longer there, you would have found yourself deserted by every female of character that knew you. Mr. Arnold's parting with his wife, was

   I found I had mortified her pride, by mentioning the narrowness of her circumstances, and the demolition of her character. If all you say were true, Sir, which is far from being the case (with a toss of her head) you will find it no very easy matter to make me amends for what

   For this purpose, I assumed a more distant behaviour, and affected to shew her something like respect. I did not drop the least hint of my knowing that Mr. Arnold had made his lady uneasy on my account, much less that I suspected

   My design was by degrees to make her satisfied enough with her situation, not to wish to return to Arnold. When I had once brought her to this, I judged it would not be difficult to carry her still farther, to the point I aimed at; and that was, to write a letter to him of my dictating. You will think this was a strange expectation, and yet it was what I resolved to accomplish. I knew the turn of the mind I had to deal with: bring a woman of this sort into good humour, and it is easy to wheedle her into compliance. She has no solid understanding; but possesses, in the place of it a sort of flashy wit, that imposes on common hearers, and makes her pass for what is called clever. With a great deal of vanity, and an affectation of tenderness, which covers the most termagant spirit that ever animated a female breast, her ruling and governing passion

   I kept up a sort of forced conversation during the rest of our journey. She was sullen, but not rude. As I was far from desiring to come to an eclaircissement with her, I did not wish to have her in better temper.

   We reached the inn, which was about a mile on our side Rochester, at eight o'clock in the morning. This was a favourable hour, as by that time every traveller must have left the stages they lay at. The house stood alone, and luckily enough, had no company in it. My old servant, Lamb, had received my instructions by letter, and was prepared accordingly for our reception. This was the place to which I had ordered the maid to be carried; she had arrived there some time before us, and was safely lodged.

   The chariot drove into the court-yard, close to the door of the inn; the step was let down in an instant, and Mrs. Lamb appeared to receive us. We both darted into the house. Dressed as we were for a ball, we made an odd appearance as travellers at that hour of the morning. I believe this consideration made Mrs. Gerrarde very readily hurry up stairs with the woman of the house.

   I inquired for Mrs. Gerrarde's maid, having given orders to Lamb that she should not be seen till I first spoke to her. I

   I commended the girl's diligence, as indeed it deserved; and having before ordered tea and coffee into Mrs. Gerrarde's room, I now went in to breakfast with her. I found the woman of the house still with her, at which I was not at all uneasy; for as she had been tutored by her husband, I knew she was not to be wrought upon, if Mrs. Gerrarde had attempted it.

   As I did not at that time desire a tête-à-tête with her, I contrived to keep Mrs. Lamb in the room, by desiring her to drink tea with us.

   When we had done breakfast, I told Mrs. Gerrarde, that as I feared she was a good deal fatigued, if it was agreeable to her, we would remain where we were for that day; and that I would by all means have her think of taking some rest. She said she was extremely tired, and should like to get a little sleep. I think, madam, you had better go to bed, said Mrs. Lamb; I have a very quiet chamber ready, where no noise in the house can disturb you. Shew me to it, answered Mrs. Gerrarde, with a tone of weariness and ill-humour. The woman obeyed; I followed: she carried her to the door of the room where the maid was, and throwing it open, Mrs. Gerrarde, who supposed she was attending her, went in: I stepped in after her; Mrs. Lamb withdrew.

   Mrs. Gerrarde's astonishment at the sight of her maid, is past description. Rachael!

   I ordered Mrs. Lamb to have an eye to my prisoners; and heartily tired as I was, between dancing and travelling, I undressed, and threw myself into bed. I slept till six o'clock in the evening; then rose, and put myself into a habit fitter for my journey than that in which I came; and which I had sent in a post-trunk before me, by the messenger whom I had

   Mrs. Gerrarde was not yet stirring. I called for Rachael, and asked her how she had come off with her lady, upon telling her the manner of her falling into my snare. Rachael told me her lady wondered mightily at my art, and said I was the strangest gentleman that ever was born. My friend Rachael softened the expression I fancy; I am sure Mrs. Gerrarde did not call me a strange gentleman. She said her mistress smiled two or three times at her relation, particularly at my giving her the keys. I found, upon the whole, that my conduct in securing to her her money and her jewels, together with the attendance of her maid, had a good deal appeased resentment.

   Mrs. Gerrarde did not rise till near eight o'clock. I had ordered as elegant a dinner as the house could afford; and the lady having put herself into a genteel dishabile, with great alacrity sat down to table, and did not appear to have fretted away her appetite. I would suffer no one

   The remainder of the evening was spent by her and her maid in carefully packing up the baggage, which had been brought in a confused huddle to the inn. Mrs. Gerrarde had a convenient trunk bought at Rochester for the purpose, and assisted herself in laying them up safely.

   She equipped herself in a smart riding-dress, and at eleven o'clock, without any great reluctance, permitted me to put her and her maid into the chariot. The inn had no company in it, at least that we saw; and our host was too discreet to let any of his servants be in the way. I mounted my horse, and triumphantly galloped off with my prize.

   We reached Dover early next morning, and immediately got on board the packet. The lady by this time appeared so perfectly serene, that I believe in my soul I should not have got rid of her, if I had desired her to have gone back again; but she had assumed a new air, and affected a fine tender melancholy in her countenance. I guessed at her thoughts, and found afterwards my conjecture right. Will you believe me, Sir George, when I tell you the baggage had formed serious honourable designs upon my person? Fact, upon my word. I saw it presently (you know my knack of reading peoples minds in their faces) and was not sorry for the discovery; for though I determined not on any account to encourage

   We landed next evening. She had been very sick at sea, and continued so much out of order, that she was put to bed as soon as we got to the inn. She ordered her maid not to stir from her; the very thing I wished; so that I had nothing to do but to be very troublesome in my inquiries after her health, and very sorry for her indisposition.

   The next morning however, set all to rights; and after congratulating her on her recovery, and the revival of her beauty, I told her I meant to carry her to Boulogne, whither I had sent Pivet the night before, to take lodgings for us in a private house which he knew. I found that neither Mrs. Gerrarde nor her maid spoke French; a circumstance I was very glad of, though the former bitterly lamented her having forgot it. She made not the least objection to the travelling from Calais to Boulogne, as she had done before; her late indisposition

   The lodgings Pivet had taken were very handsome; our apartments were on the same floor, separated only by a lobby. Mrs. Rachael had a little bed fitted up for her by my directions in her lady's dressing-room. Thus far I had sailed before the wind; but now came the difficult part of my task. It was impossible for Mrs. Gerrarde to conceive that any thing, but down-right love for her person, could have induced me to do what I had done.

   I had actually ran away with her, put myself to some hazard, and, what in her estimation was no small matter, some expence too. No other motive had appeared in all my conduct towards her; and tho' I had not absolutely made love to her, yet what other construction could my actions bear? for my words, to say the truth, were equivocal. She must necessarily have concluded that I had no other view but a piece of gallantry with her. Her designs on me were of a much more serious nature; and her vanity made her imagine,

   Now, I had two nice points to consider of, and two difficulties to surmount. The first was, not by any part of my conduct to carry the deception so far as to give her the least room to hope I could be mad enough to marry her. This, bad as she is, and extravagant as I am, I could not think of doing, even to gain my favourite point. The other was, to keep up such an appearance of gallantry towards her, as she must naturally expect, and at the same time avoid all approaches which usually forerun the catastrophe of an amour; than which nothing was more repugnant to my wishes.

   To steer between those two extremes was the difficult task, particularly the latter; for, between ourselves, I began to be much more afraid of her than she was of me. I knew it would be impossible for me to keep up the farce long; the sooner it was over the better; and therefore

   I had been ruminating on my project all the way as I rode. When we arrived at Boulogne, I found myself a little out of order, having caught cold; and as I was really somewhat feverish, a thought started into my head, that this illness might aid me in my design. When we came to our lodgings, I made my excuses to Mrs. Gerrarde for not being able to attend her: I told her I found myself ill, and must be obliged to go to bed. She said she was very sorry, and perhaps she spoke truth.

   I left her in possession of her new apartment with her maid Rachael. Their being strangers to the language of the country, cut off all communication with the people of the house, who could not speak English. I introduced Pivet to them, whom they had never seen before (for he had taken particular care to keep out of their view during the whole journey) as a gentleman who was to be their interpreter; and having thus settled my houshold, I retired to my bedchamber.

   Not well, nor sick enough to go to bed, I threw myself however down on it; and after revolving in my mind all the occurrences of the three or four past days, I started up again, sat down to the desk, and have given you, my Bidulph, a faithful narrative of my proceedings down to the present period of time, being November 25, eight o'clock in the evening.

   You may soon expect to have the second part of this my delectable history; 'Shewing how Orlando, not being able to prevail, with all his eloquence, on the as fair and beautiful, as fierce and inexorable Princess Gerrardina, to put the finishing hand to his adventures and most wonderful exploits, did, his wrath being moved thereby, like an ungentle knight, bury his sword in her snow-white, but savage and unrelenting breast; whereat, being stung with remorse, he afterwards kills himself.'

   Would not this be a pretty conclusion of my adventures? No, no, Sir George, expect better things from thy friend. I hope my knight-errantry will not end so

   Your mother, I know, is out of all patience with me. I am black enough in her opinion already. This last action, as far as she has yet known of it, will dye me ten shades deeper; but pray put in a word for me there too. I know she will say, that, 'we are not to return evil for evil; and that it is not lawful to do evil, though to bring forth good.' But put her in mind that there are such things as

   Now put all this into decent language, fit for that very good woman's ears; for good I must call her, notwithstanding she was inexorable to me.

   I am fatigued with writing so long a letter -- I feel my disorder increase upon me; I will be let blood, and hope soon

   December 2. -- -Was there ever such a piece of knight-errantry? What a madcap is this! Pray, my dear, are you not astonished at him? I am sure I am. I had not an opportunity to finish the copying of this very long letter, which I began yesterday morning, till very late this night. My poor mother has been so restless, and so much out of order these two days, I desired her leave to read to her Mr. Faulkland's history, (for I can call it by no other name), as I sat by her bedside. She told me, I might let her know the substance of what he said, as it would fatigue her too much to attend to so long an epistle.

   You would have smiled, my Cecilia, at my good parent's amazement, when I

   My mother unwillingly consented to postpone a discovery which she knew would be so agreeable to Miss Burchell. I applaud her humanity; but think that, good and prudent as she is, she is too unreserved in her confidences. This strange business, is, I think at present in too critical

   My mother did not like that he should run on in that strain, and therefore stopped him. The end crowns all, Sir George: let us see how your friend will conduct himself through this ticklish affair. Let him get through it how he will, answered my brother a little bluntly, I think Sidney has obligations to him she ought never to forget.

   December 16. -- -More intelligence, my dear; stranger and stranger still! I am sorry I sent off my last packet, as I am

   Sir George has had a second packet from Boulogne. Take the continuation of Mrs. Gerrarde's history as follows:

   How rude is the hand of sickness, my Bidulph! it had like to have spoiled one of the best projects that ever was undertaken, and consigned to oblivion an action worthy of immortality. I have been very ill since I last wrote to you; the disorder, which I then complained of, turned out to be an ugly fever; and I was for three days in extreme danger. Mrs. Gerrarde was, during that time, closely attended by Pivet, whose services I dispensed with on that account. He told me she appeared uneasy at my situation, and inquired constantly, and kindly too, after my health. When I grew well enough to sit up, I begged the favour of

   The plan she had formed of turning to the most lasting advantage the inclination she supposed I had for her, inclined her to assume a very different behaviour from what was natural to her. The weakness of my condition, while it afforded me a pretence for a more cold and languid behaviour than I could with any colour have put on at another time, gave her an opportunity of playing off her arts, and facilitated my design beyond my hopes.

   She was seated by my bedside: our first conversation consisted of nothing but complaints on my side, and condolements on her's. I sighed several times, and she sighed in return. Mrs. Gerrarde, said I, you are afflicted; but my illness has no share in your concern. Something else

   In the midst of the affluence I obtained from him, it often grieved me to think of the injury I did his wife. There is nothing, Mr. Faulkland, so grating to a generous mind, and I think I may venture

   I was delighted to find that she had got into this strain; it was the thing I wished, but durst hardly hope for without abundance of trouble on my part, and a dissimulation that was irksome to me. I knew she had studied this speech, and got it by rote to answer her own purpose; but in this, as is generally the case of designing people, she overshot herself, and became the dupe to her own artifice. I laid hold of the cue she gave: Oh, madam, you charm me! go on, go on; now indeed you shew a generous mind: happy would it be for all your sex, after having deviated from the paths of virtue, if they could return to them with so good a grace, so just a sense of their errors! To you, Sir, said she, with a solemn air, I am indebted for my present resolutions: I hope from this time forward that my life will be irreproachable. I hope so too, madam. I guessed she understood these words as

   Good! good! thought I; sure my better genius prompts the woman to speak thus. Ah, Mrs. Gerrarde, how exactly do your thoughts correspond with mine! How just are all your sentiments! What a true relish have you for virtue! Yes, I hope with you that Mr. Arnold will be able to tread in your steps: it is a pity he has not your noble example before him. Mrs. Arnold is a good woman, and he might still live with her in tolerable contentment, if he can get the better of his irregular passion for you. What a noble triumph of virtuous resolution would this be, if you yourself were the instrument

   I would do any thing in my power, said she (thinking she obliged me by the declaration); but I know not by what means such an event can be brought to pass.

   I was afraid to urge the matter farther; I was within a hair's breadth of gaining my point, but did not think it prudent to press too forward. We'll think of it another time, said I, and groaned heavily, as if my spirits were fatigued with talking. She took the hint. I am afraid I have tired you; you have talked too much. I answered her faintly, You are very good! She curtesied to me, and retired with a majestic step. I saw her no more that day: she had got upon stilts, and it was not yet time to take her down. To-morrow may produce a wonder: I will wait for it. I am really weak, but begin to recover my spirits.

   Boulogne, December 6.

   Nothing is so conducive to the body's health, as the mind's being at ease. I have

   My fears were intirely on Mrs. Arnold's account. What, thought I, would be the consequence of my project in case of my death? Mrs. Gerrarde will return back to England; and, upon telling her story, will be received again by Arnold; their union perhaps established as firmly as before, and poor Mrs. Arnold's hopes ruined for ever. Then I thought what a wretch I must appear in her eyes, doubtful, may be, of my sincerity as to the motives I urged to you for my conduct. On the other hand, if these motives should by any means happen to be suspected by Mrs. Gerrarde, it might be the means of producing the direct contrary effect from

   The first use I made of my recovered reason was, to consult with myself in

   During my illness, I had revolved all these things in my mind: the last, viz. the providing for Mrs. Gerrarde, was not a matter in which I expected to meet many difficulties; the other appeared very formidable. Several methods presented themselves, but none of them pleased me, and I rejected them one after the other; and, to tell you my mind honestly, I was almost resolved on using compulsion, and frightening the poor woman into compliance: for I preferred even this to artificial dealings. I had already used more than I could have possibly brought myself to on any other occasion in the world; and I think I should have threatened her with a nunnery, the Bastile, or even an inquisition, sooner than have failed, if she herself had not beyond expectation, beyond hope, almost beyond the evidence of my senses, led me as it were to request the thing of her, which of all others I most

   In order to prepare me the better for this, no means were more natural, than for her to assume the air of a penitent, to seem sorry and ashamed of her past sins, and resolve on a virtuous course for the future. At the worst, that is, if she found I was not disposed to be as virtuous as herself, she knew she might play an aftergame; and could easily relax by degrees from the severity of her chastity, accordingly as I made it worth her while.

   This was the master-key to her behaviour, and when once I had got it, which

   She came into my room the next morning without an invitation, and only the previous ceremony of sending Rachael to inquire how I did, and to tell me, if I were well enough to rise (observe her nicety) she would sit half an hour with me. I had enjoyed such tranquillity of heart since my last conference with her, and had rested so well the preceding night, that I found myself quite another thing from what I was the day before; and, excepting a little weakness, I was as well as ever I was in my life. I was up and dressed, and you may be sure sent a suitable answer to her kind message, which soon brought the lady, sailing with an imperial port, into my chamber. After some civilities past on both sides, she, by way of bringing her own interests on the tapis, re-assumed the topic of our yesterday's conversation.

   You can't imagine, Mr. Faulkland, said she, how easy I am in my mind, since I have reconciled myself to the loss of

   I took the liberty to ask her, how she first came acquainted with Mr. Arnold; and, as you may not know it, I will give you the story. She answered, with a profound sigh, It was by mere accident I first saw him. After the death of Captain Gerrarde, which happened in a little more than a year after we left Bath, for the gout, poor man, got into his stomach not long after we returned home (and the crocodile pretended to drop a tear) I went to London, in order to solicit for my pension. As I had formerly been a Roman Catholic, and had not publicly renounced that persuasion, some difficulties arose in the business; and a friend of my deceased husband, who had undertaken the affair for me, happening to be an intimate of Mr. Arnold's, and knowing he had an influence with the secretary at war, endeavoured

   Too-grateful heart, said I (pretending to believe her cant) what a pity thou wert not destined to reward a purer love! But I thought, madam, you really had enjoyed a pension?

   It was not necessary, she answered, that I should let the world suppose otherwise. I was not at all known when I first came to town. Mr. Arnold's excessive profuseness (quite against my inclination) threw me into a more expensive way of living than before. I found myself obliged to account for it, to the few acquaintance I had, by all the probable means I could devise. For this purpose, I pretended that I had not only obtained a pension, but had also a fortune left me by the death of a relation. This was believed, as no-body troubled their heads to inquire whether it was true or not.

   Mr. Arnold was passionately fond of the country, and always passed his summers there: but as he could not think of parting with me, he was sadly at a loss how to have me near him, without bringing on us both the observation of an inquisitive

   Oh, thou scorpion! muttered I to my-self, and yet thou hast pursued her to affliction and ruin!

   That Mrs. Arnold is a well-meaning woman, said I coldly, I have no doubt: yet you see Mr. Arnold's opinion of her virtue was not strong enough to be proof against suspicions; for it is most certain, that, if he had not given credit to your representations of his wife's conduct, he would not have gone such lengths as to have parted with her; for Arnold had always some regard to appearances.

   My representations, Sir! with a look of astonishment; pray do not lay more to my charge than I deserve: what the particular reasons were, which induced Mr. Arnold to part with his wife, I will not

   I found she intended to brazen this denial out; but as it was absolutely necessary to my design to bring her to a confession of this particular act of perfidy, I resolved to lead her into it in such a way as should be least mortifying to her pride.

   Come, come, my dear Mrs. Gerrarde, said I, I know you are above concealing any past failings that you are resolved to mend. I know very well that it was your insinuations, and your's only, that kindled the fire of jealousy in Arnold's breast. Such arts are not uncommon in lovers. You loved him then, and wished to have him intirely to yourself; and a wife, though a forsaken one, is still intitled to so much attention from her husband, as a fond mistress may think robs her of too much. I know this was the case, and it is natural: but were you not an unmerciful little tyrant to involve me in the mischief, and put it into the man's noddle, that I had designs upon his wife?

   The easy manner in which I affected to

   I chose to give my inquiry this turn, that she might, with less shame to herself, by laying hold on the hint, acknowlege her guilt. She hesitated for an answer, and I guessed she was considering whether to persist in denying the whole charge against her, or avail herself of the handle I had given her, and make a sort of merit of her sincerity, by pretending to believe what she was thoroughly convinced there was not the least foundation even to suspect,

   She appeared disturbed, and in a good deal of confusion; but recovering herself, Why really, Mr. Faulkland, I can't say but I had some suspicion of what you mention. I was no stranger to your fondness for Mrs. Arnold before she was married, and there was nothing very surprising in a disappointed lover's renewing his hopes, when he thought the neglect which a lady met with from her husband, might incline her to be less obdurate to a man she was once known to favour so much.

   This was enough: I did not think it by any means necessary to press her to a farther explanation; what she said was a sufficient acknowlegement of her fault,

   I found it necessary now to carry on the farce, by assuring her, I had never entertained a thought to Mrs. Arnold's dishonour; and that though I made no great scruple of robbing a man of his mistress, yet I thought it a crime of the blackest dye to deprive him of the affection or fidelity of his wife.

   The serious manner in which I spoke this a little disconcerted Mrs. Gerrarde. Well, said she, I can only say, that I am very sorry I entertained so false a suspicion; and more so, as it has produced such unhappy consequences: but I hope Mr. Faulkland will not believe that I meant him any injury.

   That I am sure you did not, said I; and yet this very affair has given me more uneasiness than you can imagine; for as Mrs. Arnold's brother is my most particular

   I am very unfortunate, cried Mrs. Gerrarde (pretending to wipe her eyes) to have been the occasion of so much uneasiness in any-body's family. I wish I had died before I was so unhappy as to meet with Mr. Arnold: if it had not been for him, I might now have been an innocent and a contented woman; and she really squeezed out a tear, though not of contrition.

   Dear madam (again taking her hand) do not afflict yourself for what is past recalling: contentment, nay happiness, I hope, is yet within your reach; it will be your own fault if you do not lay hold of it: as for the unhappy family that I, as well as you, have contributed to distress, I wish from my heart there could be a reunion amongst them. Mr. Arnold's having lost you, might perhaps incline him to

   I wish it were in my power, said Mrs. Gerrarde; there is nothing I would not do to effect it: but what influence can I have on Mr. Arnold, after what has happened?

   Suppose you were to write to him, said I: you and he probably may never meet again; and it would be an effort worthy indeed of a noble mind, to repair the wrongs we have done to others, by a candid acknowlegement of our own faults. Putting Mrs. Arnold out of the question, 'tis a reparation you own my character; for however light the world may make of a piece of gallantry with a married woman, it is a matter of serious moment to me to acquit myself of the supposed crime to Sir George Bidulph.

   If you think, said she, that my writing to Mr. Arnold could produce such good effects, I am ready to do it; though I confess I hardly know how to address him; for he must, to be sure, look upon me as the very reverse of what I really am, and thinks me without dispute an ungrateful woman.

   We can but try, said I: if it does not produce the desired effect, it will not be your fault; and you will have the satisfaction to reflect, that you have done your duty. I stepped to my escrutoir while I was speaking; and resolving not to give her time to cool, took out pen, ink, and paper, and laid them on a little writing-table before her. If this unlucky breach, said I, were once made up, my mind would then be easy.

   She took the pen in her hand, but seemed irresolute, and at a loss how to begin. Come, madam, said I, and confute, by your own example, the received erroneous opinion, that if a woman once strays from the paths of virtue, she never returns to them.

   A false and ill-grounded opinion indeed, said she, lifting up her prophane eyes as in penitence. What am I to say?

   [You are to observe, that my notes, as she went along while I dictated, are put between hooks.]

   [Begin] 'Dear Sir' [for I would be neither too familiar nor too cold] 'The terms on which you and I have lived, intitles you to an explanation of my reasons for leaving you so abruptly; and I hope the generosity of my motive will incline you to overlook the seeming unkindness of the action.' [This you may assure yourself it will, when he comes to consider coolly.] 'The unhappiness that I occasioned in your family, by causing the separation of you and your wife, has, for a long time, been a thorn in my heart; and the more so, as besides the robbing her of your affections, I own, and take shame to myself in the confession' [How noble must he think this confession!] that those aspersions, which I threw on her, had not the least foundation in truth.' [This is truly great.] 'I

   I believe, said I, this is all that is necessary

   She demurred to this; and in the midst of her heroics, said, I wish I could get somebody to sell them for me privately, and remit the money to me; for, since I am here, I should like to see a little more of France before I return.

   I told her that would look mean, and below a great mind. Well, said she, let them go. I owe all my servant's a year's wages, and another person about fifty pounds for a little temple he had just built in my garden, and not quite finished when I came away. I think I had better desire those debts to be discharged: I have always been very punctual in my dealings; and would not for the world wrong any body.

   You are in the right, said I: it will look honourable in you to desire those debts to be paid.

   She now proceeded to conclude her

   You will think, perhaps, that, as I have managed it, I have really given her a sort of merit with him in the acknowlegement of her fault, and the pretended reason she gives for leaving him. No such thing, Sir George. Arnold is a man of too much sense, and knows the world too well, to be so deceived. I have been told by my lord V -- , who knows him perfectly, that nobody judges better when he is not blinded by his passions. All her professions must go for nothing when facts are against her. 'Tis plain she went off with another man, and to all appearances premeditately, as her maid and her riches bore her company. 'Tis also plain, by her own confession, that this man stands well with her.

   I shall be impatient to know how the letter operates on him; but this you are not likely to be let into; and perhaps his pride may make him endeavour to conceal it from every body. My lord V -- , I am sure, will pick up some intelligence, and send it to me.

   I think Mrs. Gerrarde's confession, in regard to Mrs. Arnold (to which she could have no interested motive) with the corroborating circumstance of my going off with her, at a time when Mrs. Arnold was from under her husband's protection, injured by him in the tenderest point, and aspersed by a barbarous and invidious world; all this I say must surely clear from all suspicion that admirable creature: for who that knows Mrs. Arnold would think that any man (except her husband) would prefer any woman upon earth to her? If this does not remove all doubt of her conduct in Arnold, as well as in the rest of the world, my pains have been to little purpose; and I know no other human means that can be used to disabuse the mad credulity of that man. I pity him from my

   The having gained my material point put me into such spirits, that I could have kissed Mrs. Gerrarde; a liberty which, I assure you, however I never presumed to take. She, for her part, seemed as well pleased with what she had done as I was. I praised her for the part she had acted, tho' I very much feared she would repent of it when we came to explanations, which I resolved should be on that very day. I told her, I hoped she would oblige me with her company at dinner. She consented with a bow. I had ordered one to be got ready earlier than usual, and directed

   I had been told Mrs. Gerrarde was no enemy to a chearful glass; but the designs she had formed upon me put her on her guard, and I observed she drank nothing but wine and water, made very small. This, I was afraid would not be sufficient to keep up her courage under what I intended to say to her. I pretended to be disposed to drink, and insisted on her helping me out with a flask of Burgundy. With affected coyness she suffered me to fill her glass; the second offer I made, her resistance was less; the third she made no objection to at all; and the fourth she filled for herself. The wine was excellent; not that poor sort which is commonly

   Mrs. Gerrarde, who no doubt expected I should make an advance of some kind or other, seemed to grow a little out of humour at my levity. I found the Burgundy had been quite thrown away upon her, and had had very little effect: She was silent for a few minutes, and seemed to be considering of something: at last she opened, and I will give you the conversation that passed between us, by way of dialogue.

   Mrs. G. Mr. Faulkland, it is time that you and I should understand one another's meaning a little better than we do at present: you know very well that you have put an end to all my expectations in England: indeed, if I were at liberty, I could not have the face to return there again in any character but that of your wife. (I was glad she began first, and that, though

   Mr. F. My wife, madam! (stopping her at that tremendous word) be pleased to tell me if I heard you right?

   Mrs. G. Yes, Sir, it was your wife I said: if you think you and I are to live together on any other terms, you will find yourself exceedingly mistaken. (I smiled, and suffered her to go on.) I thought, Sir (stifling the anger that I saw rising) that the words which you yourself dictated in the letter which I just now wrote, where you say, I had in you found a protector, and one by whose means I should be able to pass the rest of my life in a manner more suitable to a woman of a generous way of thinking, than that wherein she considered herself as incroaching on the rights of another -- Were not these your own words, Sir?

   Mr. F. They were, madam. (To say

   Mrs. G. Then, Sir, how am I to understand them?

   Mr. F. I protest, madam, you have forced a construction that I never once so much as dreamed of.

   Mrs. G. Why, Mr. Faulkland (with a very brisk tone) do you fansy that by changing Mr. Arnold for you on any other conditions, that I am such a mighty gainer by the bargain?

   Mr. F. Why really, madam, if that were to be the case, I don't think you would be a very great loser: you have got as much from poor Arnold as you could expect: I am able to do better for you; and, as I am nobody's property, it would certainly, in that respect, be rather a more eligible course.

   Mrs. G. Sir, you use me very ill! I did not expect such treatment.

   Mr. F. How, pray, madam! Did I ever say I would marry you?

   Mrs. G. No, Sir; but your behaviour has given me room to suppose that such a thing was in your thoughts.

   Mr. F. Are you not then the more obliged to me for treating you with such respect as made you fansy so?

   Mrs. G. Respect! respect (muttering between her teeth) Mr. Faulkland! (and she stood up) there is not a man in England but yourself, after what I have declared, that would refuse making me his wife.

   Mr. F. What have you declared, Mrs. Gerrarde?

   Mrs. G. Why, have I not ingenuously owned my failings, shewed myself sorry for them, quitted them, and made all the reparation in my power?

   (I was amazed to see how audaciously she had adopted as her own, the sentiments which I had suggested to her: it was so like her, that I could have laughed in her face.)

   Mr. F. Your behaviour, on this occasion, has really been worthy of the imitation of all your own sex, and the praise of

   Mrs. G. Mr. Faulkland, if you are disposed to have done trifling, and will vouchsafe me a serious answer, pray tell me, Are you absolutely determined not to marry me?

   Mr. F. Absolutely.

   Mrs. G. You are not serious, sure!

   Mr. F. My dear creature, why sure thou canst not be serious in asking me the question!

   Mrs. G. Sir, I am serious, and expect a serious answer.

   Mr. F. Why then, -- seriously, I have no more thoughts of marrying thee, than I have of marrying the first sultana in the grand seignior's seraglio.

   Mrs. G. Very well, Sir; very well; I am answered (and she walked quicker about the room than before).

   We were both silent. She, I suppose, expected that I should propose other terms, and a settlement; and waited, to try if I would speak. I had a mind to teaze her a little, and hummed a tune.

   Mrs. G. (Advancing to me, and making a low curt'sey, with a most scornful and sarcastical air) May I presume to inquire what your mightiness's pleasure is in regard to me? Do you intend to keep me for your nurse against your next illness, or to send me to the grand seignior's seraglio to wait upon the first sultana?

   Mr. F. Neither (carelessly, and looking another way). I have not yet determined which way I shall dispose of you.

   Mrs. G. Dispose of me! dispose of me! why sure the man has lost his senses!

   Mr. F. Look you, Mrs. Gerrarde; we will play no longer at cross-purposes: sit down, and be calm for a few minutes, till you hear what I have to say.

   (Se did so, with a kind of impatience in her looks, that informed me I might have made a very free proposal, without any great danger of her resentment.)

   Mr. F. How long have you and I been acquainted?

   Mrs. G. Lord! what is that question to the purpose?

   Mr. F. 'Tis only in order to my desiring you would look back, and upon recollection ask yourself, if you ever had any reason to look upon me as your lover?

   Mrs. G. I made that observation to you when we were travelling together: what is the use of it now?

   Mr. F. Did I, in the course of our journey, declare myself to be such, or drop the least hint of devoting myself to you on any condition?

   Mrs. G. We did not talk on the subject at all.

   Mr. F. Did I ever presume, on the advantage of having you in my power, to venture on the smallest liberty with you? or ever deviate from that respect in my behaviour, that I was used, at all other times, to treat you with?

   Mrs. G. I do not say you did; and it was that very behaviour that inclined me to imagine you had other thoughts than those I find you have.

   Mr. F. You drew a wrong conclusion, though it is to be confessed not a very unnatural one. Such a behaviour might have been so construed by a lady otherwise circumstanced than you were; but I think a woman of your sagacity might have concluded, that, with Mrs. Gerrarde, a man would first have tried his fortune upon gentler terms than those of matrimony.

   Mrs. G. Well, well (peevishly); I do not understand your riddles: to the point.

   Mr. F. Why, the point, in short, is this; that, without any particular designs on your person, my whole view, in carrying you out of England, was to break off your intercourse with Mr. Arnold.

   (She seemed thunder-struck; but recovering herself, And is this what I am to hear calmly? And she flounced off the chair to the other end of the room.

   I followed her; and, taking her hand, begged she would again sit down, and hear me out. I drew her to a chair, and gently set her down in it.)

   Mr. F. Now, for your own sake, hear me with patience; violence or perverseness will be of no use to you.

   Mrs. G. Very well, Sir; I am your prisoner; your slave at present: say what you please; 'tis your turn now.

   Mr. F. Well then, madam, as I said before, I really never had any designs upon you merely on your own account. I allow you to be a very fine woman, and capable of inspiring love in any man that sees you; but I must tell you plainly, that love has had no share in my conduct. (I saw stifled rage in her face; but I proceeded.) I have already told you the real motive of my carrying you off: it was, as I said, to dissolve the union between you and Mr. Arnold; and my reasons for wishing to do so are these: Mr. Arnold is married to one of the best women living, for whom I have the highest respect, and esteem, and whom I once adored: That lady has, by your influence over her husband, not only been thrown out from his heart, but even thrust out from his house. But the calamity stops not there; she is cruelly aspersed by the world through your suggestions, and I am the person pointed at for the injurer of Mr. Arnold's honour,

   Now, Mrs. Gerrarde, lay your hand on your heart, and answer me if I have not given you reasons, which, though they

   I had watched her countenance narrowly during my discourse, which she had listened to without once looking at me. I saw I had shocked and even confounded her; but I saw no remorse, no contrition in her looks. All artifice was now at an end, and she unmasked the fiend directly. She started off the chair with the looks and gestures of a fury; and fixing her eyes (which had really something diabolical in them at that instant) steadily on me, You wretch! she cried with a voice answerable to her looks, you are such a false, dissembling, mean-spirited reptile, that if you had a kingdom to offer me, and would lay yourself at my feet to beg my acceptance of you, I would trample on you like dirt! and she stamped on the floor with the air of an Amazon. Do you think you shall carry on this fine-contrived enterprize? No, if I perish for it, I will have vengeance: Mr. Arnold shall know how I have been deceived and betrayed, and I will at

   A burst of malignant tears now gushed from her eyes, but she robbed them of their efficacy, by mixing with them the bitterest imprecations against me. She curst even the innocent Mrs. Arnold, you, and the whole family, and her own folly, in being blinded by the arts of such a worthless milk-sop as myself.

   I let her give vent to her passion, calmly walking about the room all the time; only now-and-then casting an eye on her, for fear she should have rushed on me with a penknife; for I have not the least doubt, if she had had such an instrument about her, she would have made an attempt that might have given a very tragical turn to my adventures.

   When she had done sobbing, I addressed her in a very stern voice; for I found I had no baby to deal with, and therefore resolved to frighten her into submission.

   I told you before, madam, that violence would be of no use to you: your menaces I laugh at; you are in my power intirely,

   I kept up a severe countenance, and a resolute tone. I rang the bell as soon as I had done speaking. Rachael came in before Mrs. Gerrarde could answer me. Take care of your mistress, said I, and left the room without even the ceremony of a bow, or deigning to look at her. I locked the chamber-door, which I took care to slap after me; and, putting the key in my pocket, left the lady and her maid to consult at their leisure.

   You know, Bidulph, I am not naturally morose; and that I am not very apt to be wanting in that complaisance which all women expect, and which I really think due to almost all women: but this one had, in the preceding scene, so intirely thrown off her sex, that I could hardly consider her as a female. I had known many of her ill qualities before; but those she now discovered, if they did not shew her more wicked, certainly rendered her more disgustful

   And now who do you think the husband is whom I have under contemplation for

   I told you I had introduced him to Mrs. Gerrarde, to serve as her interpreter in the house, at the time I was ill. I did not then tell her who he was; and both she and her maid take him for no other than an acquaintance of mine, who happens to lodge in the same house with us. The vain rogue has encouraged

   Here, my dear Sir George, I must take breath a little: it has been a busy day. I undertook a difficult voyage without the certainty of a landing-place; a few storms I expected to encounter; I hope I have weathered the worst, and have come at length to some prospect of an harbour. I expect my next greeting to you will be from a fairer shore. -- Upon second thoughts, I will not send this off, till I can put both you and myself out of the reach of suspence. . . . . . . .

   Congratulate me, Sir George, honour me, as the first of politicians, the greatest of negociators! Let no hero of romance compare himself to me, for first making

   I left the lady, as I told you, to utter her complaints to her confidante. Rachael, a simple girl, who had just sense enough to regard her own interest, was not likely to give her mistress much consolation; for she was at least as much my friend as her's. How they passed the night I know not; for my own part, I slept in perfect tranquillity. I desired Pivet in the morning to go and inquire, as from himself, how the lady rested. Mrs. Gerrarde, who was still in bed, no sooner heard his voice in the outer room, as he was speaking to her maid, than she called out to

   You are very obliging, Sir, she replied; and perhaps I have as much to say in my vindication as any woman: but sure never was mortal used in the barbarous manner I am. Do you know the proposal he had the insolence to make me last night? Either to take a husband of his choosing (any low fellow, I suppose, he thinks good enough for me) or immediately to go into a nunnery. Oh, Sir! and she catched hold of his hand, as you are a gentleman, if you have compassion, any humanity towards an unfortunate woman, try to deliver me out of his hands. I have a pretty good sum of money in my possession; contrive the means of my escape; my gratitude to you shall be unbounded! and she wrung his hand.

   Ah, madam! said Pivet, looking tenderly at her, I would it were in my power; I should think myself but too happy if it were possible for me to accomplish what

   Sir, said she, eagerly, can't you write a letter for me, or furnish me with the means of informing my friends in England of my situation?

   Madam, said he, before Mr. Faulkland permitted me the honour of seeing you, he engaged my solemn promise that I would not intermeddle in your affairs.

   Lord, what will become of me! What would you, Sir, advise me to do? For as for that wretch (meaning me) I am determined, if I can help it, not to suffer him to come near me.

   'Tis a very nice point, madam: I really do not well know how to advise: but, to be sure, a nunnery is a choice not to be

   She interrupted him. Don't name it to me Sir; don't name it: I am determined to keep out of that snare, if it be for nothing but an opportunity to be revenged on that tyrant: I would marry a beggar sooner than give up that hope.

   As for that, madam, said Pivet, I suppose Mr. Faulkland would not be so ungenerous as to compel you to marry one beneath you: there are many young men of good families who would think themselves honoured by your acceptance of them: your personal accomplishments alone are a sufficient recommendation; but Mr. Faulkland mentioned to me the additional advantage of fortune. I dare answer for him he will not think of bestowing you unworthily.

   I had charged Pivet not to go too far: he thought it time to break off the conversation; and, rising up, he told Mrs. Gerrarde he was going into my apartments, and desired to know if she would honour him with any commands.

   Sir, said she, I shall only beg you will tell Mr. Faulkland, that I never can think of his proposal; that I am very ill, and beg to be left in quiet for a few days; but shall be very glad to see you whenever you are at leisure.

   He bowed, and left her; then came directly to me, and repeated the conversation he had with her word for word. I am glad, said I, to find you are so much in her good graces: it will accelerate my plot; but we must not make you too cheap: if we manage discreetly, she may possibly think herself very well off to get you.

   At present I stand pretty well with her, Sir, said Pivet: she does not suspect that I am your servant: I fear, if she did, as the lady seems to have a high spirit, she would forbid me her presence.

   I found Pivet had no mind to have this part of his situation explained: his vanity had been highly tickled at passing upon her for a gentleman and my friend. -- He has, in obedience to my orders, spent much of his time with her during the few days that I had been too ill to see her. I

   Pivet, said I, I must premise one thing to you: I assure you there is not, nor ever was, any intrigue between Mrs. Gerrarde and me. I do not, however, pretend to vouch for her chastity. It was no secret at V -- hall that she had occasioned an unhappy

   He promised he would make the best husband in the universe. I bid him not be too sure of success, as I did not yet know Mrs. Gerrarde's mind, and feared I should find it hard to bring her into terms; adding, that though I intended to threaten her, I should be very unwilling to make use of compulsion; but if she should happen to like him, without suspecting my design, I might accomplish my purpose with

   The conversation he had just had with her elated him highly: she had made him her confidant; she had implored his assistance; she had promised an unbounded gratitude; she had prohibited my visits, and invited his. All this facilitated my work, and I at one time thought of letting her e'en work out her fate, and run blindfold into my trap; for it is plain, if Pivet had given into it, she would have marched off with him, and even married him, to get out of my clutches; and then, you know, she could have blamed nobody but herself for the consequences. But I resolved not to impose on the gipsey any farther; but let her know what she was to expect before the bargain was concluded, and at least give her her option of having the power of continuing a jilt, or being canonized for a saint.

   I found things were now likely to take such a turn as I wished; but it still required management. Pivet, said I, you must let her see you no more to-day; it

   Tho' Pivet assured me that he though Mrs. Gerrarde was not so ill as she said she was, I yet thought it incumbent on me to have the advice of a physician. The people with whom I lodged said I could not have a better than the doctor who had attended me, as he was reckoned very skilful. I told them, in the present case, I believed honesty was more requisite than skill. They said he was very honest too; so I desired he might be sent for.

   Mrs. Gerrarde, being determined to carry on the farce of sickness, pretended she was not able to rise; and the doctor was introduced to her bedside. As he could neither understand his patient, nor

   Mrs. Gerrarde, provoked, I believe, at the doctor's visit, and very much tired of his questions, asked peevishly where Monsieur Pivet was? This inquiry I expected; and the fellow who told me of it, had been ordered to inform her that Monsieur Pivet was not at home.

   The doctor, after leaving his patient, came to me, and confirmed the character I had received of him, both for skill in his profession, and integrity in his practice; for he told me very honestly, that he thought the lady was in perfect health. I thought the doctor deserved a double fee, and accordingly gave it to him; requesting him, however, to continue his visits: for I told him, that, though the lady might really be very well, she was, however, a little vapourish.

   I left her to her reflections the whole day. Rachael inquired three or four times of the footman if Mr. Pivet was come in, but was always answered in the negative. I was pleased at her solicitude about him.

   I desired him to wait on her the next day at the time the doctor paid his visit; and instructed pivet to ask the doctor, in her presence, what he thought of her case, and to report his answer fairly to her; for I was resolved not to let her imagine that she imposed on me.

   The doctor, by Pivet's means, discoursed with her more readily than he had done the day before. Pivet asked his opinion

   Pivet could not help smiling. Mrs. Gerrarde observed it; for I suppose, she watched his countenance, and asked him what the doctor had said. He says, madam, what gives me a vast deal of pleasure; which is, that your disorder is intirely imaginary. He is an ignorant fellow, said Mrs. Gerrarde; and you may tell him I desire to see him no more. The poor doctor, who knew not what she said, made her half a dozen scrapes, and withdrew.

   She then threw back her curtain; and re-assuming the subject she had been upon the day before with Pivet, asked him if he had had any conversation with me about her, and what resolution I had come to.

   Pivet (who had begged I would leave this conference intirely to his management) seemed to hesitate a little, and appeared melancholy. We have had some talk about you, madam, said he; and Mr.

   Pivet affected to look concerned. He tells me, madam, he has cast his eyes on a young man, well born, and genteelly educated; not contemptible in his personal accomplishments, and one who he is sure will make you a fond and obliging husband.

   Pivet sighed deeply, and cast his eyes languishingly on her. You seem concerned, Sir, said she. Do you know the person? It is my doubts on that occasion, madam, that is the cause of my uneasiness. Pray explain yourself, Mr. Pivet. Madam, I dare not, he replied, with great solemnity. I will only assure you, that whoever the person be, whom Mr. Faulkland has not yet named to me, I think him the happiest man in the world. What can be this meaning, asked Mrs. Gerrarde, for telling you so much, and yet concealing the person's name? He says, he has not proposed it yet to the gentleman, madam; and, as he tells me, he can't in honour conceal any part of your story, he is fearful -- I beg your pardon, madam; you will excuse, me if I do not repeat his scruples on this occasion. I understand you, Sir. He supposes his friend will reject me. Some such insinuation he threw out, madam, said Pivet. I told him, that he need only permit the gentleman to see you; and if he then made any objection, he must be the blindest and most insensible

   He told me what had passed between him and the lady, and I could not help approving his management of this scene, though the rogue had stretched beyond the truth; but stratagems, you know, are allowable in love, and a lover he was now become in good earnest.

   He had taken care to alarm Mrs. Gerrarde's apprehensions at every passage of access. He had informed her, that I had a husband for her in my thoughts; and at the same time, that he avoided the most distant hint of its being himself, he engaged her favour by seeming to wish it were. Then he took care to insinuate, at least, a possibility of her being refused by the person designed for her, and this he very naturally supposed would raise his own consequence with her in case any suspicion should fall on him of his being the intended husband. He pretended I had taken umbrage at his visiting her, still more to enflame her resentment against me, and increase her impatience to deliver herself out of my hands; at the same time he artfully hinted that he was

   I own I did not expect to have succeeded so soon; and without Pivet, who had now a feeling in the affair, I certainly should not. I resolved directly to make the best use of the advantage I had gained. I told Pivet that he should be married the next day. He was so transported at the thought, that he begged I would give him leave to go to Mrs. Gerrarde to declare his love and his good fortune together; for, Sir, said he, you know she promises to accept of whomsoever you propose, and I hope she will not despise your choice so much as she thinks she shall. Softly, softly, good Monsieur Pivot, your

   Sir, said he, I always intended to follow the business I was bred to; and if this piece of extraordinary good fortune had not happened to me, I did purpose, tho' you have been the best of masters to me, to have asked your permission to return to my friends, in order to settle in my trade, as I have some capital of my own. But to be sure, Sir, I shall be directed in this, as in every thing else, by your will and pleasure. I approve of your design intirely, said I; but there are certain conditions

   He answered, his father had left him about eight thousand livres, which were in the hands of a banker in Paris, whom he named to me, and referred me to him for confirmation of the truth of what he told me.

   Well, said I, this will go a good way towards setting you up in your own business. Where do you think of settling?

   He answered, Paris was the best place for his trade.

   On that I put an absolute negative; I said Paris was too much frequented by my countrymen to be a proper place for Mrs. Gerrarde to make her appearance in, as she was likely to meet there with more of her acquaintance than might be convenient: I told him I had not objection to any other large provincial town.

   He said he was born at Dijon, and should like to go thither, as he had many friends there.

   Be it so, said I: What I purpose doing for you is this. Mrs. Gerrarde has eight hundred pounds of her own; I will ad as much more to it, for which I will give you my bond, till I can have the money remitted from England; and this you shall settle on her, that she may be sure of a support in case of your death, and the interest you shall allow her for her own separate use, but without her knowing that you are tied down to it, that you may have it in your power to oblige her.

   He made no reply, but acquiesced with a low bow.

   I laughed at the simplicity of his countenance. Pivet, said I, though I have taken care of Mrs. Gerrarde's interest, I do not intend to neglect yours, provided you make no demur to the terms. You already know my reasons for proceeding as I have done in this affair. I have great cause to apprehend Mrs. Gerrarde's vindictive spirit, if she should find means, which I know she will endeavour at, to lay open the real state of this transaction

   Pivet's gratitude overflowed at his lips

   Preliminaries thus adjusted, I sent for a notary of reputation, to whom I gave instructions to draw up two separate articles for the purposes mentioned; the latter was to be a secret between Pivet and me, as it was by no means proper for Mrs. Gerrarde to be let into it. The other, which regarded her own particular settlement, was intended for her perusal and approbation. I charged the notary to use dispatch, and he promised to have both the papers ready by next morning, as also the bond which I was to give Pivet for the payment of eight hundred pounds.

   The lawyer brought the papers according to his promise, and they were signed, sealed, and delivered in due form. That which was to be the private agreement

   Pivet was very impatient to see his beloved, but a little uneasy lest she should come to know the situation he had been in. I bid not be discouraged, telling him I should set off that circumstance of his having been my gentleman (for so I chose to call him) in the most favourable light. I presented him with a very elegant suit of cloaths, which I had never worn, and which fitted him very well, as you know he is nearly of my size. You cannot imagine how handsome the fellow looked when he was dressed, for he had linen and every thing else suitable to his cloaths.

   I then desired him to wait on his goddess; but he, who had been so eager a little before, was now quite abashed at the thoughts of making his pretensions known to the lady, and intreated me to present him to her. I saw he was quite

   I pitied him, and told him I would go with him to Mrs. Gerrarde; but that it was proper first to prepare her a little.

   He said he thought so too.

   I immediately sent for Rachael, and speaking to her at the door, without letting her see Pivet, I bid her tell her mistress that I purposed making her a visit in half an hour, and should introduce the gentleman, whom I expected she would, according to her promise, receive at my hands for her husband; reserving to herself still the liberty of choosing the other alternative, in case she disliked him.

   Pivet shewed the solicitude of a lover after this message was sent to his mistress; Poor dear lady, said he, how I pity her! What must she suffer in this interval! But your presence, Monsieur Pivet, said I, will dispel all her fears, and make her the happiest of women.

   The poor fellow was out of countenance, and I dare say as anxious as Mrs. Gerrarde.

   As I received no answer form her to my message, I construed her silence as leave to attend her; and accordingly, at the appointed time, I entered her apartment, leading Pivet by the hand.

   She was sitting at a table, leaning her head on one of her hands; she cast a look of scorn at me, and immediately withdrew her eyes, not so much as deigning to glance them at Pivet, little imaginning that it was he who accompanied me, though she knew it was her intended bridegroom.

   Pivet was not able to speak; he trembled, and, like a true inamorato, ran to her, clapt one knee to the ground, and ventured, though with great diffidence, to take one of her hands.

   This action obliged the haughty fair one to vouchsafe him a glance of her eye.

   Her surprize, spite of her assumed airs of grandeur, was not to be concealed; it was apparent, she coloured, and though she intended to have been solemn and lofty, she even stared; and I could

   What! Monsieur Pivet? And then she looked at me, as if for an explanation.

   Yes, madam, said I, Monsieur Pivet is the man. (I was going to say the happy man, but I did not meant to compliment her; my business was to make her think I was doing her a favour.) It has been your good fortune to make a conquest of him; and in the hope of your making him a good wife, as I am sure he will make you a good husband, I have consented to the match; and I spoke this in the tone of one, who thinking he has conferred a great obligation on an undeserving object, expects to be thanked for it.

   The woman, with all her art and assurance to boot, was quite confounded. I did not give her time to recover herself, but taking the settlement out of my pocket, and reading it to her, Look there, madam, and see if I have injured you in the disposal of your person and your fortune.

   Mrs. Gerrarde, always alert when her

   She spoke this with such an air of disdain, that the poor lover, shrunk up and diminished in his own eyes, left me to make an answer. Mrs. Gerrarde, said I, I declare to you solemnly that there is no deception in any thing which you see,

   Pivet coloured (for I stole a side glance at him) and looked sheepish. He began an aukward compliment with a bow, and

   Pivet now plucked up his courage, and begged, since she had consented, that she would not defer his happiness. I told her, between mirth and chiding, that I was in haste to get rid of my charge, and was therefore determined to make her over to Mr. Pivet that evening; and telling her I would give orders about the ceremony, left the lovers to make out for themselves a scheme of conjugal felicity. Pivet pleaded his own cause so effectually, that, in the evening, I had the satisfaction of bestowing with my own hand, that inestimable treasure of virtue and meekness, Mrs. Gerrarde, on my faithful 'squire, Monsieur Pivet; to the no small joy of the latter, and I believe, if the truth were known, to the no great mortification

   When the ceremony was over, I approached, according to custom, to congratulate and salute the bride; but she turned her saucy cheek to me, and affected the whole night vast dignity of behaviour; yet it was so foreign to her nature, that it appeared ridiculous; however it was better than ranting.

   I invited them both to sup with me, and treated Pivet with a familiar civility that seemed to please him highly, as it did him credit in the presence of his lady.

   After supper, Pivet entreated me to complete the friendly and generous offices I had already done him, by undertaking the settlement of all money matters for him. As he knew I intended to go to Paris, he begged I would receive for him the sum he had in the hands of the banker, which, he said, if I would remit to him, it would enable him to enter upon his business immediately. At the same time

   I was pleased at the openness of his proceedings, and promised to do every thing for their mutual satisfaction; but insisted on his keeping the bond, or lodging it in some proper hand, till I could redeem it, by paying the money, which I should take care should be speedily done. I told him, I thought the sooner he set out for his own province the better. He said, he should be ready the next day, if Mrs. Gerrarde (for he did not yet presume to call her by his own name) did not object to it. He appealed to her with his looks.

   She had scarce condescended to open her lips before; but now answered, You may be sure, Sir, I shall not think it too soon to get out of a prison.

   He asked her if she chose to take her maid Rachael along with her?

   Certainly, she said; I should not be fond of having a servant about me, by whom I should not be understood.

   Rachael was now called in, and the thing proposed to her. She seemed rather inclined to return to England; but I told her, she could not, in gratitude, desert her lady in a strange country; and that if she had a mind to make me her friend, which she should find me upon any future occasion, she would attend her home, and continue with her till her mistress was willing to part with her.

   The girl upon this consented to stay, and received Mrs. Gerrarde's orders to prepare for their departure the next day.

   In the morning I made Pivet a present for his travelling charges, and Rachael another; telling her, according to the account I should have of her behaviour, that I would be kind to her. She made me all the promises that I could desire; assuring me, that it was purely to oblige me that she staid with Mrs. Gerrarde.

   Pivet told me, that he would send the sum which his wife had, in bills to me, to be appropriated in the manner agreed on: for he said, that having that morning mentioned to her my generosity, in relation to the bond, she had owned, that, notwithstanding her resentment to me, she had no distrust of my honour in those particulars.

   I took this opportunity of telling Pivet, that when he could get his wife in the humour, he might prevail on her to give an instrument, impowering my steward to receive the little income of her jointure at Ashby, which I would take care should be remitted to him; for, trifling as it was, it might be serviceable.

   When they were ready to set forward on their journey, I begged leave to speak a few words to madam Pivet by herself. She seemed no inclined to the conference, but her husband very obligingly pressing her not to part with me in enmity, and at the same time quitting the room, she was obliged to hear me.

   I then very frankly asked her pardon

   I would have preached on, and given her more good advice, but she cut me short, with this decisive answer. Sir, I neither desire your counsel nor your good opinion; Mr. Pivot may deserve some regard from me, but you I never will forgive, and she flung from me.

   I called in Pivet, and telling him I was infinitely pleased at the good disposition I found his lady in, I wished him all happiness and a safe journey, and they set out directly for Dijon.

   And now, my dear Bidulph, stop, to praise, to admire, to wonder at my virtue! I, who have had one of the finest women in England in my possession for so many days (and by the way was not her aversion) to yield up her (by me) unpolluted charms to the arms of another! Add to this, that it has cost me more to make one woman honest, than it need have done to have made half a dozen -- otherwise. I had like to have writ a strange ugly word, that was just at the nib of my pen.

   If you relate you story with the laudable partiality of a friend, judiciously abolishing the context (for which you may have many precedents) and neatly splicing together the useful fragments, shall I not appear to posterity as great as Scipio himself? Ah, Sir George! if we knew the secret springs of many of those actions

   Well, I thank my good genius that has led me safely through such a labyrinth as I had got into. In getting rid of that woman (and not disgracefully neither) I feel as if I had shaken off a great load. But what a graceless baggage it is, not to thank me for my kindness. I, who have been more than a father to her, in saving her first from perdition, and then settling her well int he world -- but there is no obliging some tempers.

   I shall leave this place to-morrow, for I must hasten to Paris, to put every thing on a good footing for the new-married pair; and then I will go and ramble I do not care whither for another year. I shall lodge at Paris, where I did before, and desire you will write me directly an account of all that passes within the circle of your family. Let your sister and my lady Bidulph know in what

   I could sit now, and indite melancholy verses, or write an elegy, or make my will, or do any other splenetic thing: in short, I have a good mind to turn monk and go in a monastery. I am sure I should have lady Bidulph's vote for that.

   Adieu, my dear Bidulph, you will not hear from me again, perhaps, till I am in another region.

   December 17. -- -What a strange man this is, my Cecilia! The more I reflect on his conduct, the more I am amazed! What a mixture is there in his nature! Wild to a romantic degree in his conceptions, yet how steady, how resolute, how consistent, in putting those flights of fancy into act! Generous he certainly is; how few men would put themselves to the trouble and expence that he has done, from such a disinterested, such a compassionate motive! Nay, on the contrary, I believe most men would be cruel enough to take a sort of pleasure in the vexation of a man, who had succeeded to the love of a mistress, once so much valued; and would enjoy a mean triumph in being, though without reason, the object of his jealousy, who had cut them off from all hope.

   Mr. Faulkland is above this. I think myself highly indebted to him, whether the scheme he has in so extraordinary a manner undertaken for my service succeeds or not. Yet do I wish from my heart, that the separation between Mr.

   My mother has suffered me to tell her the substance of Mr. Faulkland's letters, though she would not read them. I own I was better satisfied that she should receive her information thus, because his light manner of expressing himself in many places would have given her great offence. Sir George did not consider this when he submitted the letters to my mother's as well as my perusal. Many grave animadversions did she make during my recital, and many times lift up her eyes in wonder at Mrs. Gerrarde's behaviour.

   She consented; and I read it, leaving out Mr. Faulkland's apostrophes. My mother did not interrupt me; and finding she continued silent when I came to the conclusion, I looked at her, and saw tears running down her cheeks. Yes, my dear, my innocent child, said she, passionately throwing her arms round me, you were wronged; God knows you were wronged; and He now proclaims your innocence even from the mouth of your most inveterate enemy. And lifting up her eyes, Thou has turned the hearts of sinners to the wisdom of the just; therefore shall the righteous give Thee thanks. And then, God forgive that woman all her sins for

   I could not answer her for some time; my own tears almost choaked me: at last I said, My dear mother, I have no doubt of Mr. Arnold's returning kindness: he will, I hope, be convinced that I am guiltless, and we may yet be happy.

   She dried her eyes: God send, God send you may! But what has Mr. Faulkland done with his poor penitent? I hope he will behave honourably to her; for this excellent parent had no doubt but that the letter, written by Mrs. Gerrarde, was, in a great measure, the result of her own contrition; for as I had not been minute in giving her a particular account of all the previous steps taken by Mr. Faulkland to obtain it from her, she had not the least idea that Mrs. Gerrarde had writ in that manner from any other motive than the good one which appeared obvious to her.

   I told her, that I feared Mrs. Gerrarde was far from being the penitent she supposed her; and then acquainted her with the true reasons which had induced her to write in the manner she had done. I then proceeded to tell her of her behaviour after writing the letter, and how Mr. Faulkland had acted in consequence of that; concluding with informing her of Mrs. Gerrarde's being married, and provided for in a very reputable way.

   My mother was highly delighted at this last circumstance; for, she said, Mr. Faulkland had no right to be the punisher of her crimes; and if he had not made a decent provision for her, she would never have looked upon him but as a dishonest person.

   She told me, that though she was very glad, upon the whole, that Mr. Arnold and that bad woman were separated, yet she was nevertheless not quite so well satisfied with the manner of it? for I think, said she, that it is impossible but that a man of Mr. Arnold's good sense must, one time or other, have been convinced of

   I answered, that might possibly have happened; but that he might have continued long enough under his infatuation intirely to ruin his family: and as for what regarded me in particular, I knew of no means so likely to remove his unjust suspicions effectually, as those which Mr. Faulkland had taken.

   You are right, my dear, said she; let us hope the best. I am glad MR. Faulkland does not mean to return soon to England: there is but one event which could ever reconcile me to his doing so; and that is, in order to do justice to the unfortunate Miss Burchell. If he would wipe out that blot in his character by marrying her, I should again allow him to be a good man: at present, I own, I can't help being dissatisfied, that one, so blameable as I think him, should have laid my daughter under the obligations which he has done.

   I said it would rejoice me if he could be prevailed on to make Miss Burchell

   My mother said, He never could expect quiet of mind, till he had wiped the tears from her eyes.

   Miss Burchell came in while we were speaking of her: my mother is always glad to see her. The poor girl has been exceedingly shocked at Mr. Faulkland's carrying away her aunt. She thought this action put such an invincible bar between her and her hopes (almost desperate before) that it went near to distract her; for though there was no consanguinity in the case, yet the degree of relationship between her and Mrs. Gerrarde, made her look upon this amour (for so she considered it) with the utmost horror. She had often expressed her sense of it in so lively a manner, both to my mother and

   My mother, ever delighted with acts of humanity, was in haste to communicate the true state of the case to Miss Burchell. It was her interest to keep our secret; therefore I made no scruple of trusting her with it; especially as I knew it would so much contribute to her peace of mind.

   My mother accosted her with saying, Miss Burchell, I have something to tell you, that I believe will give you pleasure. The unhappy young woman lifted up her melancholy eyes; and, shaking her head, answered, That I believe, madam, is now impossible. Your aunt is married, said my mother, but not to Mr. Faulkland; and, what is more, there has never any thing passed between them that need be a bar to you, if he could be brought to consider you as he ought. Miss Burchell looked amazed; then turned her eyes from my mother to me, as if for an explanation. My mother desired me to

   Her fine eyes, which she fixed on me, filled with persuasive eloquence, let me into the whole of her meaning, and conveyed more to me than it was in the

   My mother, who was greatly affected at her discourse, said to me, Indeed, my dear, if you could effect that, it would be a very meritorious work. Who knows what the high opinion Mr. Faulkland has of you, and the great deference he pays to your judgment, may produce?

   I was sorry my good mother's openness of heart had made her enter so suddenly into Miss Burchell's sentiments: it encouraged her to renew her intreaties; she snatched both my mother's hands, and kissed them; she wanted words to thank her.

   I was unwilling to appear cold in Miss Burchell's interest, or to refuse doing what my mother seemed to approve; but the resolution I had long before made, never to see, or on any account whatsoever to hold the least correspondence with Mr. Faulkland, determined me. If strict prudence might on so extraordinary an occasion have dispensed with this promise, which, as I had made it to my own heart,

   I told Miss Burchell there was but one reason which could prevent me from complying with her request; but it was one of so much weight with me, that, after my informing her of it, I hoped she would be so good as not to urge me farther. I did, said I, upon my parting with my husband, make a firm resolution, not only never to see Mr. Faulkland, but never to receive from, or write a line to him, nor in any manner whatsoever to keep up the least intercourse with him.

   I did not know but that Mr. Faulkland (if he should learn the truth) considering himself to be (as he really was, though innocently) the cause of that unfortunate separation, might, either with a design of consoling me, or

   Very true, my dearest, answered my

   Miss Burchell made no answer, but by her tears; we were both affected, and I wished sincerely to have had it in my power to serve her. I told her, if Mr. Arnold and I should ever be re-united, that I would endeavour to draw him so far over to our party, as to obtain his permission to correspond with Mr. Faulkland: that I was sure he would join with me in wishing her the reparation she hoped for; and that I would make no scruple of engaging warmly for her in such a case. But then, madam, said she, with what face can you interest yourself for me, so long as Mr. Arnold shall think that my aunt has been criminal with Mr. Faulkland? That thought, said I, did not occur to me before, as is indeed a difficulty; for should Mr. Arnold know

   Be contented, good Miss Burchell, said my mother, with this promise which my daughter has made you: if Mr. Arnold and she should live together again, Mr. Faulkland may probably return to England; as nothing I believe now keeps him abroad, but to avoid giving

   December 18. -- -My brother continues sullen; he seldom visits us, and when he does, the meeting on his part is cold. He has made himself master of many particulars relating to poor Mr. Arnold's unhappy connection with Mrs. Gerrarde; for since her elopement the affair has been more talked of than it was before, and her whole history traced out. She was the daughter of an innkeeper in a country town, and ran away with Capt. Gerrarde, in his march through it, upon an acquaintance of but a few days. The husband, who was passionately fond of her, concealed the meanness of her birth, and put her off to his relations for a young lady of a reputable family, with whom he got a good fortune. This induced his sister, a widow lady, the mother of Miss Burchell, to leave at her death the care of the unhappy girl to Capt. Gerrarde. The captain, whose infirmities increased

   All these ungrateful particulars, which Sir George had received from Mr. Pinnick, he took a sort of ill-natured pleasure in repeating to my mother and me. Unhappy Mr. Arnold! into what a gulph didst thou unwarily plunge thyself! Is it not amazing that this affair was even so long a secret? That it was so to me is not strange; for it is natural to suppose that I must have been the last person to receive a hint of this nature; but that my brother should never have been informed of it is surprizing. 'Tis certain Mr. Arnold was at first very cautious in his visits,

   December 19. -- -How miserable is a state of suspence! I am, if possible, more unhappy now, than when I was without hope of recovering my dear, and now more dear, because undone Mr. Arnold. Our cause came to a final hearing many days ago (though I was not told it till this morning, and only prepared for it yesterday) and it is given against us. Mr. Arnold by this stroke loses 900 pounds

   My brother is very unkind; after telling me the fatal news, he said, he thought I should be much to blame if I returned to Mr. Arnold, though he were even desirous of it. What prospect can you have with him but beggary? said he; for I suppose his next step will be to wheedle you out of your jointure, the only support you have now left for yourself and your children.

   Oh, brother, brother! said I, you have no heart! I could say no more, for I burst into tears.

   Perhaps you may not be put to the trial, answered he cruelly; but if you should, you are to take your own way, Mrs. Arnold, for my advice had never any weight with you or my mother.

   My mother replied, Sir George, you do not use either me or your sister well. Let her, in the name of God, follow the dictates of her duty. If the unfortunate Mr. Arnold sees his error, can you be so unchristian as to endeavour at steeling his wife's heart against him? O son, this is not the way to obtain forgiveness of God for your own faults! Far be it from Sidney to reject the proffered love of a repenting husband. My dear (to me) don't afflict yourself; if your husband has grace, you shall both be as happy together as I can make you. Misfortunes, said Sir George, are mighty great promoters of grace; I don't doubt but Mr. Arnold will repent most heartily -- the having lavished away his fortune, and the hopes of repairing it, may give him the grace to take his wife again.

   Sir George, said my mother, angrily, you will oblige me if you say no more on the subject.

   I have done, madam, said my brother, and took his leave.

   I had almost forgot to tell you by what means the widow Arnold carried her suit

   This concealed villain undoubtedly was the person who first suggested this vile attempt to her, and secretly abetted her in

   I do not imagine Mrs. Gerrarde was in this secret. I suppose she would not knowingly have contributed to beggar the man by whom she was supported in affluence. But be that as it will, the evidence of this fellow, who was bred an attorney, together with that of Mrs. Arnold's maid, established the proof on which the issue of the whole affair turned.

   Unfortunately for us, we could find nobody capable of giving any testimony which could overthrow theirs; and the irregularity of the late Mr. Arnold's life gave these evidences an appearance at least of truth. God forgive those people the foul play they made use of! I would not possess a king's revenue on the terms they now enjoy the Arnold estate. 'Tis whispered, that the widow is supposed to

   I need not tell you in what light my poor Mr. Arnold looks upon this affair. He said to a gentleman, from whom Sir George had the account, that he was justly punished for having furnished such a villain with the means for undoing him, and execrates the memory of Mrs. Gerrarde, who prevailed on him to do it, for he scarce knew the fellow at that time, having only seen him once or twice at her lodgings. But let me drop the mention of such wretches at once. My heart is full of impatience to hear something from Mr. Arnold. Mrs. Gerrarde's letter I fear has had no effect on him; he must have received it long since. What

   December 23. -- -Lord and lady V -- arrived in town last night. They sent a compliment to me as soon as they alighted at their house, which was not till nine o'clock; and this morning at the same hour I was agreeably surprized by a visit from my lord; surprized I say, for he is seldom out of bed so soon. I had him up to my dressing-room; my mother had never seen him, and as she was undressed did not choose to appear. Well, my good lady, said he, after saluting me, have you heard any thing from Mr. Arnold lately? I told him I had not. I don't know whether you are apprized, said he, that I am in all your secrets: Mr. Faulkland and I correspond, and I know how all matters stand. You are not made acquainted, perhaps, that I was aiding and abetting to a certain scheme. I told him that Mr. Faulkland had writ my brother

   He put an end to this visit immediately, telling me, that either he or his lady would call on me in the afternoon, to let me know the result of their conference with Mr. Arnold.

   I flew to my mother, to tell her the joyful news. She offered up a prayer that it might turn out as my lord V -- had suggested; and said, she herself was of the same opinion.

   With a heart elated with pleasure, my dear Cecilia, I have scribbled over the occurrences of this morning. God grant I may be able to close my journal of to-day with the happy wished-for event!

   I never counted the clock with such impatience as I did this day, waiting the promised visit of lord and lady V -- ; and I ordered myself to be denied to all company but them. At one o'clock good lady V -- came, without my lord. When I heard the rap at the door, and saw form the window it was her equipage, I was seized with such a trembling, that when lady V -- , who hurried up stairs, entered the room, I was unable to speak, or salute her. She ran up to me, and taking me by the hand, affectionately embraced me. My mother was present; I made a shift to present her to lady V -- . She then led me to a chair, and sat down by me. Come, my dear Mrs. Arnold, said she, recover your spirits; all will be well. I began to apologize for giving her ladyship the trouble of coming to me, when it was my duty to have waited on

   Oh, I feared it! said I, and tears started into my eyes. If you are so affected at the barely knowing this, said my lady, I must not tell you the particulars of our conversation; it will be enough for you to know, that your husband is convinced of the injuries he has done you, and desires nothing more than your forgiveness.

   Dear lady V -- , said I, excuse me, my heart is really so softened with sorrow, that I cannot command my tears. But I beg that may not deter you from indulging me with the particulars of what passed between you and Mr. Arnold. If I do weep, as my tears no longer proceed from grief, do not let them interrupt you.

   My mother joined in begging lady V -- to inform us of all that passed in that morning's interview.

   Lady V -- obligingly complied, and gave the following account of it.

   Mr. Arnold came exactly at ten o'clock; my lord was just returned from his visit to you, and had got in but a few minutes before him. Poor Mr. Arnold looked abashed upon seeing me; his countenance and his voice discovered the humiliation of his mind. After the first compliments were over, we sat down to breakfast; your husband drank a dish of coffee, but ate nothing. We were in haste, that the servants should leave the room, and dismissed them as soon as we could. Mr. lord then opened the conversation, by saying, Well, Arnold, here are lady V -- and I come to attend your summons; now tell us what service you have to employ us in, for I assure you, we are both ready to do you any act of friendship in our power.

   My lord, I thank you, said Mr. Arnold; the friendship you honour me with, I flattered myself, some time ago, might have been serviceable to me; I must not now think of making use of it.

   I am sorry for that, Mr. Arnold, said I; I am sure nothing in this world besides can ever make either your lady or you happy.

   Do you know, madam, said he (and the poor man really looked wildly) that you see an absolute beggar before you? A man without a foot of land, overwhelmed with debts, and who shortly will not have a house to shelter himself in. I deserve it all, but Mrs. Arnold does not. Do you think, that after all the wrongs I have done her, I will involve her in poverty too? No, lady V -- , no. I am not such an abandoned wretch. All I desire

   He uttered all this with so much eagerness, that we never once attempted to interrupt him.

   As I did not then know of the loss of your cause, I was surprized to hear him speak of his circumstances being so desperate, and really feared his head was turned. But my lord soon explained the matter, by saying he had heard that morning of the issue of his law-suit, yet still hoped, that matters were not so bad as he represented them to be. He then told Mr. Arnold, he was extremely glad to find that his wife had recovered his good opinion; adding, that he always had the highest one of your virtue. It amazes me, Mr. Arnold, said I, that you ever could entertain a doubt of it. So it

   I wanted to draw Mr. Arnold to this point. Have you heard any thing of her since she left you, Sir? said I.

   He drew a letter out of his pocket, and without answering me, put it into my hands, and desired me to read it; then rose off his chair, and walked about the room.

   My lord and I read Mrs. Gerrarde's letter together; we were both curious to see it, Mr. Faulkland having mentioned it in his correspondence. Mr. Arnold, said I, returning it to him, without any such proof as this, I believe nobody that knows your lady would think her guilty; nor could I ever entertain so bad an opinion of Mr. Faulkland: I have known him from his boyish days, and never had reason to believe him capable of a dishonourable action.

   I believe him innocent as to this, answered

   Why, I must own, said my lord, that is a natural inference, which joined to the perfidy and falshood of Mrs. Gerrarde, puts it out of dispute, that she traduced Mr. Faulkland and your wife merely to gain her own wicked ends; one part of which I am inclined to think she confesses in her letter; that is to say, to have

   Lady V -- , said your husband, impatiently, I am as conscious of it all as you can possibly wish me. I know I am a blind infatuated monster: What can you say more? Faulkland, I thank you for ridding me of such a pest: Oh, that you had taken her before I was so curst as to see her face! If you had, I should not now be the undone wretch I am! My lord, my lady, will you do me the favour

   His manner was so vehement, that I really feared the agitations of his mind might disorder his brain. k My lord told him he was too desponding, and said, he hoped all might be yet retrieved. He then inquired into the particular situation of his affairs, which are, I am grieved to say it, very bad indeed. We were told, when we were in Kent, that a part of South-park was mortgaged, but did not believe it, as we knew it was settled on you. Upon being asked, Mr. Arnold himself acknowleged it, confessing at the same time, that he had been prevailed on to do this, in order to deliver Mrs. Gerrarde's

   Though I had shed many tears, whilst lady V -- was describing Mr. Arnold's behaviour at the beginning of her discourse, I heard this latter part of her account with a composed attention.

   Lady V -- took me by the hand: I am sorry, dear Mrs. Arnold, said she, that I am obliged to repeat such uncomfortable tidings to you, but you must know all, soon or late, and it is as well now as hereafter. I am sure your patient temper and good sense will enable you to bear up against misfortunes.

   My lord then proceeded to ask Mr. Arnold, if his friends could make his circumstances a little easier, and Mrs. Arnold would consent to live with him again, had he any objection to it?

   My lord, answered your husband, from the moment I heard of Mrs. Gerrarde's elopement, I flattered myself with the hopes of being restored to my senses, and my peace, by a re-union with my wife; for I own to you, her innocence from that very time became evident to me, and it was mere shame that prevented me from making my application to lady Bidulph, for the purpose of a reconciliation. The receipt of Mrs. Gerrarde's letter -- (whether the wretch has really felt compunction, or whether her cruelty to me, in order to make me more unhappy, has drawn it from her, I know not) the receipt of that letter, I say, wherein Mrs Arnold's innocence is so intirely cleared, convinced me I ought not to delay making my wife all the reparation in my power. Though I was shocked to think how much I had foolishly squandered away, I was still in possession of an estate of nine hundred pounds a year; for though it was then in litigation, my lawyers amused me to the last, with a belief that I should carry my suit; and notwithstanding that the payment

   But as things have turned out, I would not for this earthly globe involve her in my ruin; nor shall her family have it to say, I sought their friendship when I was abandoned of every other hope.

   As to that point, answered my lord, I can bear you witness, that your first overture to me, in order to bring about a reconciliation, arrived before there was any likelihood of your standing in need of assistance, either from your wife's friends or your own; for I believe they all, as well as yourself, were pretty sure of your carrying your suit, which, if you had done, your affairs might, with a little care, have soon been, in a great measure retrieved. Therefore, if they should attempt to make the ungenerous charge you apprehend, I can confute it, and will to all the world; and for the rest, we must manage as well as we can.

   My lord then proposed some methods to make his affairs a little more easy; as

   My lady V -- 's politeness and generosity would not suffer her to mention the particulars of the methods proposed; but I have reason to believe, my good lord V -- will interest himself rather farther than I wish.

   When my lord and Mrs. Arnold, she proceeded, had talked over these matters for some time, in which my lord had much ado to get the better of Mr. Arnold's obstinacy, he told him that I should undertake to explain his situation to you and lady Bidulph. That he made no doubt of your tenderness in forgetting all that was past, and being willing to embrace his fortunes, let them be what they would; for, said he, I am sure Mrs. Arnold would think herself happier with you, on three hundred pounds a year, than she would with twice so many thousands without you.

   Oh, madam! said I, interrupting her, my lord has read my very heart.

   My lady smiled and went on. Lady Bidulph, said my lord, is so good a woman, that as she must look on you in the light of a repenting sinner, you may be assured of her pardon and favour. That he may rest satisfied of, answered my mother. My income is not considerable, and I have never been able to lay any thing by; but if Mr. Arnold can be extricated from his present difficulties, so as to be able to retire quietly into the country, I will share that little with him.

   My lady V -- 's eyes moistened, mine were quite suffused. I assure you, said lady V -- , it was not without abundance of arguments used by my lord, and downright quarrelling on my side, that Mr. Arnold could be prevailed on to consent that any other application should be made on his part, than that of acquainting you with his penitence, and communicating his resolution, together with his motives for it, of never seeing you more.

   He says, Sir George Bidulph never was his friend; and, as he supposes him more now his enemy than ever, he would

   My mother, who never conceals her thoughts, answered directly, of that I believe he need not be apprehensive; Sir George is not very liberal; he would have persuaded his sister against returning to her husband, and I am sure will not be willing to contribute towards making their re-union happy. Besides, as he is now going to be married, he troubles himself with little else than his intended bride.

   Lady V -- seemed shocked; I was sorry my mother had spoke so freely of Sir George, to one who was an intire stranger both to him and her; but she is so good, that even her errors proceed from virtue.

   Well, said lady V -- , we have now seen the worst side of the prospect; let us turn our eyes towards the pleasanter view. What do you mean to do, Mrs. Arnold?

   Mean, madam! said I, to go directly to my husband.

   Well, well, replied she, smiling, that I suppose; but how do you purpose to settle your little houshold matters?

   I think, said my mother, the best thing you can do is, to go directly down to my house in Wiltshire. You know that and the furniture are mine, during my life; they go to your brother afterwards. Send for your two children and honest Martha; dispose of your house in town, and all your effects here, as well as at South-park and in Essex -- let the produce be applied to the payment of debts, as far as it will go. You will then have your jointure to receive, to which I will add two hundred pounds a year, which will enable you, by degrees, to pay off the rest of your debts, and I do not see why you may not live comfortably besides.

   Extremely well, said my lady, with Mrs. Arnold's good management; especially as they will not have the expence of house-rent. I am sure my lord will willingly undertake to manage Mr. Arnold's affairs in town for him, and I would have you both get into the country as fast as you can.

   I am intirely of your opinion, lady

   Why, said lady V -- , I would not have you surprize him; he is to dine with us to-day, and I will prepare him to receive you in the afternoon at my house, if you choose it.

   By all means, my good lady V -- . I will come to your house at five o'clock. Well, said she, bring a few spirits with you, and do not let the interview soften you too much.

   Lady V -- then took her leave, as she said she should hardly have time to dress before dinner. My mother and I spent the interval between that time and evening, in talking of our future scheme of life. Remember, my dear, said she, that

   You never, my Cecilia, experienced such a situation as mine, and therefore can have no idea of what I felt, in expectation of seeing the person, whose presence I most ardently wished for, and yet was afraid of the interview. My fears were not on my own account; conscious as I was of my innocence, I had no apprehensions on that head: but I could not

   My mother did all she could to encourage me, and a little before five o'clock, I was put into a chair, and carried to lord V -- 's house.

   My lady met me on the stairs; I could scarce breathe. She carried me into her dressing-room, and made me sit down till I recovered a little; she was affected herself, but endeavoured to raise my spirits. I wish, said she, smiling, you had been in my lord's hands, he would have prepared you better than lady Bidulph has for this meeting; he has been trying to make Mr. Arnold drunk, in order to give him courage, he says, to face you. Poor man, he could scarcely credit me when I told him you were to come this evening. She proposed my taking a few drops, which I agreed to; and bidding

   I catched lady V -- by the hand, and begged she would desire him, from me, not to mention any thing that was past, but let our meeting be, as if the separation had only been occasioned by a long journey.

   She left me, and Mr. Arnold in a few minutes entered the room. He approached me speechless; my arms were extended to receive him; he fell into them; we neither of us spoke; there was no language but tears, which we both shed plentifully. Mr. Arnold sobbed as I pressed him to my bosom. My dearest Sidney, said he, can it be! Is it possible that you love me still?

   If lady V -- delivered my message to you, my dear Mr. Arnold, sure you would not speak thus to me.

   I understand you, said he; Oh, my dear! I never wished for wealth or length of days, till now -- but what I can I will.

   Forbear, my love, said I; remember

   I will throw myself at her feet, said he; I want a blessing from her, and she has sent me one, throwing his arms again round me.

   How much are we obliged to good lord and lady V -- ! said I.

   Oh, they have opened to me the path to heaven, he answered -- If it had not been for them -- I think we had better go to them, said I; they will partake in our happiness.

   He took me by the hand without answering, and led me into the drawing-room.

   I have, my sister, endeavoured to recollect our disjointed conversation, in order to give it to you as well as I could. All that I can remember I have set down, though I am sure a good deal more passed.

   Lord V -- 's eyes sparkled when he saw us enter together; but my lady and he, I suppose, had agreed before-hand to say

   When the servants were withdrawn, my lady introduced the subject of our going out of town. She had before acquainted him with my mother's proposal, and I repeated what she had said to me on that head, after lady V -- had left us. My lord renewed the kind offers of his friendship, and said, as we meant so shortly to part with our house in St. James's-street, that he thought it would be better for us not to go into it at all, but make use of his house while we staid

   I readily assented to this proposal; and Mr. Arnold said it would be most agreeable to him. I told him, however, I should be glad of my mother's approbation; and asked Mr. Arnold if he did not think it would be right of us both to wait on her together, to let her know of my lord's kind invitation. My lady V -- said, by all means, and the sooner the better; if you please, I will order the chariot: I would have you see lady Bidulph directly. Mr. Arnold said, it was what he purposed doing that very night.

   The chariot was presently at the door; lady V -- said, I have an apartment ready, and shall, with lady Bidulph's permission, expect you back to-night. We promised to return, and drove to my mother's.

   I left Mr. Arnold in the parlour, whilst I ran up stairs to inform her of his being come to wait on her.

   Unluckily, as well as unexpectedly, I

   Sir George, said I, you shock me exceedingly: where is the need of those cruel repetitions? indeed you are very unkind; and I could not refrain from tears.

   The more blameable Mr. Arnold's conduct has been, said my mother, the more

   Ay, madam, I wish you had thought of that in Mr. Faulkland's case, cried my brother.

   My mother seemed disconcerted at the rebuke. Sir George looked and smiled, with an air of ill-natured triumph. As my mother was not quick in answering, I replied, The cases are very different, brother; what duty obliges us to pass by in a husband, it is hardly moral not to discountenance in another man.

   You say true, child, said my mother; a woman certainly ought not to marry a loose man, if she knows him to be such; but if it be her misfortune to be joined to such a one, she is not to reject him, but more especially if she sees him willing to reform. Where is your husband, my dear? Madam, he is below in the parlour; he is come to receive your forgiveness, and your blessing. He shall have both, said my good mother, and my prayers too. Sir George looked a little surprized: I

   Go bring your husband up to me, said my mother. I begged she would not mention any thing of Sir George's behaviour. I found Mr. Arnold impatient at my stay. Poor man, his situation made him jealous of every thing that looked like a slight. I told him, my brother had been above stairs, and as I did not think a meeting would at that time have been agreeable to either of them, I waited till he was gone. I perceive he knew I was in the house, said Mr. Arnold, by the blustering manner of his departure. I made no reply; but, taking him under the arm, led him to my mother.

   That best of women received him with a tenderness that delighted me; he put

   He then besought my mother to forgive him for all the affliction he had occasioned both to her and me; assuring her that his veneration for her, and his tenderness for me, were augmented an hundred-fold, and should for the future influence his whole conduct.

   After this, we fell on the subject of our domestic affairs: we informed my mother of my lord V -- 's proposal, and said, as we should stay in town but two or three days, we had accepted of the offer of being at his house, rather than by our presence banish my brother from her's.

   He is an untractable man, said she; but as I do not wish to quarrel with my children, I think it will be prudent for you

   We determined to set out for Sidney Castle in three or four days at farthest; and took leave of my mother for this night.

   December 21. -- -I told lady V -- this morning, that though I was determined never to mention our past misfortune to Mr. Arnold, yet I owned I had a great

   I can inform you of her whole proceedings, answered lady V -- , as I had it from Mr. Arnold himself; for to tell you the truth, I was as curious about that as you, and took the liberty to ask your husband concerning it yesterday, when we had him to ourselves. It was the interval between dinner, and the hour that you were expected here in the evening, that I laid hold of for this purpose, as I found him then composed enough to bear the inquiry.

   He told me, that form the time of his going down to South-park, Mrs. Gerrarde had begun to throw out insinuations concerning you, that had a little alarmed him. She asked him, Whether you made a good wife? which he answering in the affirmative. She replied, she was glad of it; for that she had been told your

   Your husband acknowleges, that he believes he had himself casually informed Mrs. Gerrarde of the manner of his first becoming acquainted with you, and the suddenness with which his marriage was concluded; yet she pretended to him, she was before apprized of these particulars.

   He owns that those hints, though far from giving him any suspicion of your virtue, had nevertheless made some impression on him. You know, madam, added he, that, madly devoted as my affections were to Mrs. Gerrarde, I had always behaved to my wife with great tenderness and respect. This I suppose it

   He then proceeded to tell me of his finding you and Mr. Faulkland together one evening at the house of Mrs. Gerrarde. I must confess, continued he, this unexpected incident transported me beyond the bounds of patience: I suffered, notwithstanding, Mr. Faulkland to go quietly out of the house, more for Mrs. Gerrarde's sake than any other consideration, and permitted her to go home with my wife (who I then thought pretended illness) waiting in the mean time at her house for her return, in order to have this extraordinary and unexpected meeting explained.

   Mrs. Gerrarde on her return expressed the utmost concern and resentment on the occasion. She told me, that as she had expected me that evening (which was really the case) she had sent to my wife to engage her for the next day, in order to prevent her coming to interrupt us, which was not unlikely, as Mrs. Arnold had not been to see her from the time she was laid up by the hurt she received; and she said, she did not care to

   I myself, continued he, having the same apprehensions, had asked Mrs. Arnold, on my going abroad in the morning, how she purposed to dispose of herself for the day; and she had told me she intended to stay at home. Mrs. Gerrarde said, that notwithstanding her message, she was surprized with a visit from Mrs. Arnold just as she was sitting down to dinner; that she however put a good face on the matter, and received her very cordially; but in order to get rid of her soon, told her, she was engaged abroad in the afternoon. Mrs. Arnold, she added, however thought proper to stay, and I could not avoid asking her to drink coffee. While we were at it, behold, to my very great surprize, Mr. Faulkland sent in his name, and immediately entered the parlour.

   As I guessed, continued Mrs. Gerrarde, that this was a settled assignation, I own I was extremely provoked at it. Mr. Faulkland, with whom I formerly had a

   Can you blame me, madam, proceeded your husband, if, after what I now saw and heard, I was enraged almost to madness against my wife? The base woman, who had not accomplished her wicked purpose, encouraged me in my desperation. In the midst of my fury, however, I could not help making one observation, which was, that as Mrs. Gerrarde's going, or pretending to go out that evening was a casual thing, they

   Mrs. Gerrarde concluded with saying, that she believed nothing criminal had as yet passed between Mr. Faulkland and my wife, at least since his coming to V -- hall; but as there was no with-holding a woman from her will, it was very probable that Mrs. Arnold would contrive the means of meeting, though not at her house, yet somewhere else. I raved, threatened, talked of fighting Faulkland, and locking up my wife. She artfully dissuaded me from such violent measures by a number of arguments, which I will not trouble you with repeating: amongst other things, she said, that I had no right to call Faulkland to an account merely from surmise, which was all I had to ground my charge on; and though there was the strongest reason to believe he had dishonourable designs on Mrs. Arnold, yet as I could not directly accuse him of them, I should be laughed at for engaging in a quarrel, which to the world would appear to be so ill-grounded. As to what I threatened in regard to my wife, she said, such measures only make a woman

   I interrupted your husband at this part of the story, pursued lady V -- , and told him, that to my knowlege Mr. Faulkland had gone to Sidney Castle to see Sir George Bidulph, before you left your own house; and did not set out from thence on his return till about three weeks after your

   Dear lady V -- , said he, do you think i now want any farther arguments to convince me what an injurious wretch I have been to the best of women?

   I have one observation to make to you, Mr. Arnold, added I; which is, that your lady's misfortune was intirely owing to her great delicacy, and the nice regard she had to your peace and honour.

   I do not understand you, madam, he replied.

   Know then, said I, that your wife was well acquainted with your connection with Mrs. Gerrarde, from the very night that you found her at the public house, to which the accident that happened to her obliged her to go. She owned to me, at the time you drove her form her home, that she had discovered your amour from a conversation she overheard that night between you and Mrs. Gerrarde. This I extorted from her, by letting her know I was no stranger to the intrigue. I then repeated to him the discourse that passed

   Your husband lifted up his eyes to heaven, and striking his breast, Blind, blind wretch! he cried; infatuated, ungrateful monster! are there no amends -- no amends in thy power for such goodness?

   I could not hear such a description of my poor Mr. Arnold's deep contrition.

   December 22. -- -We are preparing to get into the country with all speed. I have writ to Patty to set out with the two children for Sidney Castle as soon as possible. Mr. Arnold has put his affairs intirely into the hands of our worthy friend lord V -- , and we think, upon a calculation, that what we have in town, at South-park, and at Arnold-Abbey, will go near to answer the present demands that are upon us.

   Lady V -- is the best creature living! she knows that neither Mr. Arnold nor I choose to see any visitors, and she has let in none these two days. I am vexed at laying her under such a restraint, although her good-nature will not suffer her to think it one. We shall go out of town on Monday; to-morrow we spend with my mother, as do lord and lady V -- (who are mightily charmed with her) and then adieu to London, perhaps for ever. If my mother comes down to me, as she intends

   Sidney Castle, December 29.

   Here I am, my dear, in the house of my nativity. Your Sidney and her Arnold as happy as a king and a queen! or, to speak more properly, happier than any king or queen in Christendom. My two dear little girls are well, thank God! and look charmingly. Poor babes! they could have no idea of their loss when I left them, yet they now seem pleased at seeing me again. My faithful Patty is almost out of her wits with joy. I have no maid but her, and an honest servant, whom my mother left here to look after her house. Mr. Arnold has retained but one of his men: the garden is taken care of by an old man in the neighbourhood, to whom my mother allows something for keeping it in order.

   With what delight do I recal the days of my childhood, which I passed here so happily! You, my dear Cecilia, mix yourself in all my thoughts; every spot almost brings you fresh into my memory. The

   January 4. -- -It is almost three years since I left this place; and the welcomes I have received from all our old neighbours and acquaintance, have given me more satisfaction than I can express. Mr. Arnold is highly pleased with the marks of affection which he sees me daily receive from those who have known me from my infancy. I am the more delighted with it, as I think it gives me an additional value with him. 'Tis a proof at least that I never misbehaved during the long number of years that our former friends knew me; and we must needs be pleased to see the object of our love approved of by others. This I speak from my own experience. Mr. Arnold is exceedingly caressed by all our friends, and seems

   January 10. -- -I have had two letters to-day; one from lady V -- , the other from my dear mother. Lady V -- tells me her Lord is bustling about for us, to put affairs in the best condition he can. She says, he has already got a purchaser for the lease of our house in St. James's-street; and all the moveables in it, as they now stand. They have been valued at two thousand seven hundred pounds. As most of our plate is there, as well as our chariot and a pair of horses, this has fallen very short of our expectations; but lady V -- says, she is sure there was not more allowed for the furniture than half their original value, though they have not been a great while in use. She tells me, that my lord has employed a person to go down to Arnold-Abbey, to dispose of the things

   The contents of my mother's letter are, That Sir George was married yesterday to lady Sarah P -- . She says, the bride was

   January 23. -- -I am grown a perfect farmer's wife, and have got a notable dairy: I am mistress of three cows, I assure you, which more than supply my family; then I have the best poultry in the

   Your little namesake promises to be the greatest beauty in the county. Dolly, who is a pretty little cherry-cheek, and her father's great favourite, prates like a parrot. How delightful will be the task of expanding and forming the minds of these two cherubs! how joyfully and how thankfully do I look back on the troubled sea which I have passed! My voyage indeed was not long, but my sufferings were great while they lasted. I never, since I was married, enjoyed life till now. You know my match was originally the result of duty to the best of mothers; and though, if I ever knew my own heart, it was absolutely freed from all attachment to any other person, yet was it not so devoted to Mr. Arnold, as to have made him my choice preferably to all other men, if I had not resolved in this, as in every other action of my life, to be determined

   Sorrows, my Cecilia, soften and subdue the mind prodigiously; and I think my heart was better prepared from its sufferings to receive Mr. Arnold's returning tenderness, than an age of courtship in

   March 10. -- -My good lady V -- writes me word, that all our business is finished.

   March 11. -- -I am here in a scene of still life, my dear; and you must now expect to hear of nothing but such trivial matters as used to be the subjects of our journals when we were both girls, and you lived within a bow-shot of Sidney-Castle, and saw me every day. The last three months of my life have glided away like a smooth stream, when there is not a breath of wind to ruffle it; and after you have read the

   I have told you of every-body that came to see me, and all the visits that I returned: I have given you an account of all our old acquaintance, and of some new ones. You know what my amusements are, and what my business: indeed, what I call business, is my chief pleasure. You, who are surrounded by the gaieties of a splendid court, had need of the partiality which I know you have for your Sidney, to desire a continuation of her insipid narrative., But, I suppose, if I were to tell you, that on such a day my white Guiney-hen brought out a fine brood of chickens, you might be as well pleased with it, as I should be to hear from you of the birth of an arch-duchess. Indeed, my Cecilia, there is such a sameness in my now tranquil days, that I believe I must have recourse to telling you my dreams, to furnish out matter of variety.

   March 19. -- -We have had a wedding to-day in our neighbourhood. Young

   The girl's father, it seems, had been an humourist, and left her the fortune under a severe restriction; for if ever she married without her brother's consent, she was to lose it; so that, in that particular instance of disposing of her person, she was never to be her own mistress. In the disposal of her fortune, however, he did not

   The brother who is a very honest man, had no motive, but a regard to his sister's interest, in refusing poor Mr. Main: a man of a good fortune had proposed for her, whom the brother importuned her to accept of; but she was firm to her first attachment.

   The young lover found means to convey a letter to his mistress, in which he told her, that as he was in circumstances to support her genteelly, if she would venture to accept of his hand, he would never more bestow a thought on her fortune. This proposal the prudent young woman declined on her own part, but advised him to make it to her brother, as she was not then without suspicions that he wished to retain her fortune in the family; and that it was only to save appearances he had proposed a match to her, of which he was sure she would not accept. But in this opinion she injured him. She thought, however, the experiment might

   But it was an ill-judged attempt, and succeeded accordingly: for, if the brother should have given his consent, he could have no pretence for with-holding her portion; or if he did, by so mutual agreement, his motive for denying his consent before, must appear too obviously to be a bad one.

   The young people, not considering this sufficiently, resolved to make the trial; accordingly Mr. Main wrote to the brother a very submissive letter, telling him he would, in the most solemn manner, relinquish all claim to his sister's fortune, if he would make him happy by consenting to their marriage; without which, he said, the young lady's regard for her brother would not suffer her to take such a step.

   This letter had no other effect than that of making the brother extremely angry. He sent a severe message to the young man, to acquaint him, that he looked

   There had been, it seems, besides this gentleman's not thinking Main a suitable match for his sister, some old family pique between him and Mr. Main's father.

   These transactions happened some time before I came to the country. Just about that juncture, the poor girl had the misfortune to receive a hurt in her breast, by falling against the sharp corner of a desk from a stool, on which she had stood in order to reach down a book that was in a little case over it. This accident threw her into a fit of illness, which put a stop to all correspondence between her and her lover.

   In this illness, a fever, which was her apparent complaint, was the only thing to which the physician paid attention, and the hurt in her breast was not inquired after; so that by the time she was tolerably recovered from the former, the latter was discovered to be in a very dangerous way, and required the immediate assistance of a surgeon. You may be sure poor Main was not the person pitched upon to attend her; another was called in, of less skill, but not so obnoxious to the family.

   By this bungler she was tortured for near three months; at the end of which time, through improper treatment, the malady was so far increased, that the operator declared the breast must be taken off, as the only possible means of saving her life.

   The young gentlewoman's family were all in the greatest affliction; she herself seemed the only composed person amongst them. She appointed the day when she was to undergo this severe trial of her fortitude; it was at the distance of about

   On the evening preceding the appointed day, she conjured her brother in the most earnest manner to permit Mr. Main to be present at the operation. The brother was unwilling to comply, as he thought it might very much discompose her; but she was so extremely pressing, that he was constrained to yield.

   The attending surgeon was consulted on the occasion; who having declared, that he had no objection to Mr. Main's being present, that young man was sent to. He had been quite inconsoleable at the accounts he received of the dangerous state in which his mistress was, and went with an aching heart to her brother's house in the morning.

   He was introduced into her chamber, where he found the whole chirurgical apparatus ready. The young woman herself was in her closet, but came out in a few minutes, with a countenance perfectly serene. She seated herself in an elbow

   You have, said she, been a father to me, since I lost my own; I acknowlege your tenderness and your care of me with gratitude. I believe your refusal of me to Mr. Main, was from no other motive but your desire of seeing me matched to a richer man. I therefore freely forgive you that only act in which you ever exercised the authority my father gave you over me. My life, I now apprehend, is in imminent danger, the hazard nearly equal, whether I do, or do not undergo the operation; but as they tell me there is a chance in my favour on one side, I am determined to submit to it.

   I put it off to this day, on account of its being my birth-day. I am now one-and-twenty, and as the consequences of what I have to go through, may deprive

   Sir, said she, turning to the other surgeon, as soon as my brother is withdrawn, I am ready for you. You may imagine this had various effects on the different persons concerned. The brother, however displeased he might have been at this act of his sister's, had too much humanity to make any animadversions on it at that time. He returned the paper to his sister without speaking, and retired.

   Poor Main, who had stood at the back of her chair, from his first coming in, had been endeavouring to suppress his tears all the time; but at this proof of his mistress's

   The other surgeon desired him to compose himself, for that they were losing time, and the lady would be too much ruffled.

   The heroic young woman, with a smiling countenance, begged of him to dry his eyes; perhaps, said she, I may recover. Then fixing herself firmly in the chair, she pronounced with much composure, 'I am ready.' Two maid servants stood one on each side of her, and the surgeon drew near to do his painful work. He had uncovered her bosom, and taken off the dressings, when Mr. Main, casting his eyes at her breast, begged he might have leave to examine it before they proceeded. The other surgeon, with some indignation, said, his doing so was only an unnecessary delay; and had already laid hold of his knife, when Mr. Main having looked at it, said, he was of opinion it might be saved, without endangering

   The young lady, who had been an eye-witness of what passed, for she would not suffer her face to be covered, now thought it proper to interpose. She told the unfeeling operator, that he might be very sure she would embrace any distant hope of saving herself from the pain, the danger, and the loss she must sustain, if he pursued the method he intended. She was not however so irresolute, she said, as to desire either to avoid or postpone the operation, if it should be found necessary; but as there was hope given her of a cure without it, she thought it but reasonable to make the experiment; and

   The two women servants, who are always professed enemies to chirurgical operations, readily joined in her sentiments, and saying it was a mortal sin to cut and hack any Christian, they made haste to cover up their young lady again.

   The disappointed surgeon hardly forbore rude language to the women; and telling Mr. Main he would make him know what it was to traduce the skill of a practitioner of his standing, marched off in a violent passion, saying to his patient, if she had a mind to kill herself, it was nothing to him.

   The modest young man, delighted to find the case of his beloved not so desperate as he had supposed it to be, begged she would permit him to apply some proper dressings to the afflicted part, and conjuring her to call in the aid of the ablest surgeon that could be procured, took his leave.

   The brother of the lady being apprized of what had passed, lost no time in sending an express to Bath; and by a very handsome gratuity, induced a surgeon of great eminence to set out immediately for his house, who arrived early the next morning. But in the mean time poor Main had like to have paid dear for his superior skill in his profession. The other surgeon had no sooner got home, than he sent him a challenge, to meet him that evening in a field at some distance from the town. They met; Main had the good fortune, after wounding, to disarm his antagonist, but first received himself a dangerous wound.

   This accident was kept from the knowlege of his mistress; but on the arrival of the surgeon from Bath, as he would not take off the dressings, but in the presence of the person who put them on, it was thought proper that both Mr. Main and the other man should be sent for. The latter was not by any means in a condition to attend; but the former, though very ill and feverish, desired that he might

   The testimony of this gentleman, whose skill was undoubted, and whose impartiality must be so too, having never seen any of the parties concerned in his life before, wrought so much on the brother of the lady, that he did not hesitate to put his sister under the care of her lover.

   Poor Main, though scarce able to leave his bed for some time, was nevertheless carried to his patient every day, at the hazard of his life. His skill, his tenderness,

   The consequence of this incident was very happy for them both; the brother, exceedingly pleased at his whole behaviour, told him, he was an honest generous fellow; and since he was convinced it was his sister's person, and not her fortune he was attached to, he would, with all his heart, bestow both on him; and accordingly Mr. Arnold and I had this day the satisfaction of seeing this worthy young pair united in marriage.

   My Patty is not a little delighted at her brother's good fortune. The honest youth, who has ever since his father's death supported his mother, and as many of the younger children as were not able to gain their own livelihood, has now invited his sister Patty to live with him; but the faithful girl declined the offer; telling her brother she would never quit me, while I thought her worthy of my regard.

   I look upon myself to be much obliged to her for this, as the station she is now in, cannot be so advantageous as I hoped to make it when I first took her into my service; but I will make up in kindness what may be wanting in profit. Indeed I consider her rather as a friend than a servant, and Mr. Arnold always treats her with respect.

   March 20. -- -I am very uneasy at not having it in my power to fulfil my promise to poor Miss Burchell; but that is a string I dare not as yet touch upon. Indeed I cannot bear any conversation that leads to the subject. Whenever Mr. Arnold begins to accuse himself for his unhappy conduct, in relation to Mrs. Gerrarde, which he often does, I always stop him, or turn the discourse to something else. He never speaks of her now, but with a contemptuous indifference; and is so firmly persuaded that she went off willingly with Mr. Faulkland, that I dare not as yet undeceive him; which I must necessarily do, should I express even a wish

   My mother writes me word, that Sir George had informed Mr. Faulkland, by letter, of the success of his project; and that his answer was full of congratulations and expressions of joy. He is now in Italy; but talks of returning to England next summer. He says, he hears sometimes from Pivet, and that he and his wife live very well together.

   My mother says she often sees Miss Burchell, and that she encourages her with the hope of what may happen when Mr. Faulkland comes back. If this

   March 26. -- -Alas, my Cecilia! we have received most heavy news! My good lord V -- , that stedfast, that worthy, that best of friends, is no more! He was preparing to go to V -- hall three days ago, but was seized with an apoplexy, as he was coming down stairs to go into his coach, and

   Mr. Arnold and I have lost more than a father. How self recurs every minute; let me think of lady V -- again, and not dare to complain on my own account; but my obligations to him were of such a nature, as claim all my gratitude to his memory, and all the tears that I have abundantly shed for him.

   Mr. Arnold is largely in his debt; we have no room to expect the same friendship from the present lord V -- , that we experienced from his father.

   This circumstance did not occur tome till poor Mr. Arnold put me in mind of it: my thoughts were too much absorbed

   What a dark cloud of sorrow is now spread over Sidney Castle! and how this stroke has imbittered our little domestic joys! But let me not carry my complainings into presumptuous murmurings. I have lost a sincere and truly valued friend; but do I not still possess infinite blessings? My husband, my dear Mr. Arnold, my two sweet children, the best of mothers, and thee, my ever-beloved Cecilia, whom I still call mine, though at such a distance from me.

   Then I comfort myself with reflecting that lady V -- has sons, who, I hope, will be a blessing to her; that her fortune is affluent, and that my lord had passed through a well-spent life, to a pretty advanced age: he was turned of sixty. All these considerations sooth my mind, and I acknowlege, that, upon the whole, I have, by far, more cause to be thankful, than to repine.

   March 30. -- -Lady V -- 's journey down to V -- hall having been so fatally prevented, she is obliged to remain in London. The shock she received has brought on her a fit of illness. I find my lord has not left any ready money; his fortune was large, but as they always lived in great splendor, he laid none of his income by: the whole sum which he could command, he laid out for our use. My lady's jointure is pretty considerable; if it were ten times more, she deserves it. Oh, may her sons prove worthy of such a parent! The youngest I hear is a very fine youth. He is come to her from Oxford to comfort her, till the arrival of his eldest brother.

   My mother writes me word, that her old friend lady Grimston is dead. She has left her whole fortune to charitable uses: not a sixpence to either of her daughters. Poor Mrs. Vere! She is content with her little income, and has no loss of so unnatural a parent, who carried her vindictive spirit with her to the grave. As for the eldest, she did not

   My mother is nevertheless very much troubled for the death of her old acquaintance; who, she says, was a valuable woman: she considers her decease as a memento, which warns her of her own approaching end; for they were just of an age.

   I fear my mother is not well, though

   April 22. -- -I thank you, my beloved Cecilia, for your cordial wish. Your opinion, that all my troubles are at an end, is consonant to your desires, but I doubt far from the real fact. The young lord V -- is returned home; but oh, how unlike that honest man whose title and fortune he inherits! How deceived were his worthy parents in their hopes of him! he is a stranger to every sentiment of virtue. I have had a letter this day from my lady V -- , where she laments the degeneracy of her son, whom they were made to believe a pattern of excellence: but the tutor to whom they entrusted him was as profligate as himself. In short, she says he is quite a reprobate; she has not the least authority or influence over him; she laments this, particularly on our account: we are indebted to him near five thousand pounds, and my lady says, she fears he will press Mr. Arnold. He is profuse,

   What can we do, my dear? There is not the least prospect now of our being able to pay this money, but by our selling the only remaining stake we have left. Had my lord lived, he made us hope that by his interest he could procure Mr. Arnold some employment, which would have enabled him to discharge this debt at his ease, without our being obliged to strip ourselves of our all. As we purposed living with the utmost oeconomy, this might have been accomplished in a few years. This prospect is now lost to us. We must submit. I have begged of Mr. Arnold to think immediately of selling my jointure, for we have no reason to expect any lenity from a man of such a character as the present lord V -- is. We can subsist upon the income which my mother is so good as to allow us: it is precarious, it is true, but something may happen; I rely on that providence, who has hitherto protected me.

   April 28. -- -Lady V -- 's apprehensions were but too well founded. We have had a letter from her son's agent. The debt must be paid; and we are come to a resolution to sell two hundred and fifty pounds a year. We shall then have but fifty pounds a year in the world which we can call our own! I reckon not upon my mother's life, these afflictions I fear will hasten her departure to another world. From Sir George we have nothing to expect: he is absorbed in vanity; his new alliances engross him intirely.

   My dear lady V -- writes us word, she will do her utmost to promote Mr. Arnold's interest. She has numerous and powerful friends; and says, she makes no doubt of obtaining something for him worth his acceptance. Believe me, my Cecilia, I am not disheartened at this fresh blow. If my dear Mr. Arnold could reconcile himself to it, I could be well contented. I will not now (though you used to accuse me of it) anticipate misfortunes; we have still enough for the present to live on decently; and if my lady V -- 's

   May 12. -- -Thank God we have done with the merciless lord V -- ! his money is to be paid directly to him. I have recovered my tranquility; I enjoy my little in peace; and have the comfort to see Mr. Arnold's mind more at ease, and reconciled to his lot. To lady V -- 's goodness, as well as my own earnest endeavours, I impute this. She says, she has the promise of an honourable and a profitable post for him; but we are to wait some months for it. The person who is now in possession of this place is to be preferred to a better, and she says, she has the word of an honest man on the occasion; 'he is 'a very great man too, says my lady in her letter; but as it is on the first part of his character chiefly we are to depend, I mention the other only by-the-bye.'

   Now, my dear, have I not reason to be contented? A thankless heart should I have if I were not; but I am, indeed, my Cecilia, I am; and I begin again to be happy. Our domestick felicity was but disturbed for a while, it was not overthrown.

   Here will I close; I have an opportunity of sending this immediately by a private hand to my beloved.

   [Here Mrs. Arnold's maid Patty continues the journal.]

   May 15. -- -By my lady's orders I take up the pen; and she has charged me to set down every particular. God knows I am ill able to do it! but I will strive to obey her. My poor dear lady is in such trouble, she has not the heart to write, nor scarcely to do any thing.

   My master -- Oh, madam! how shall I express myself! my poor master, now he is so good, we are going, I fear, to lose him: I must write, according to my lady's custom, every thing in the best order I can.

   You cannot think, madam, how happy they have lived together ever since my lady came home to him again. He seemed to grow fonder and fonder of her every day; I believe he perfectly adored her, and he had reason.

   You know, madam, my lady was always used to a chariot; but they never attempted keeping one since they came down to Sidney-Castle. She asked my master once, if he had a horse quiet enough for her to venture to ride on to church. I observed my master turned away his face, and put his handkerchief to his eyes. I believe he thought of a little favourite pad that he had given to Mrs. Gerrarde. I have not one, my love, said he, that I would trust you on. You had once a pretty horse that you were fond of, but my desperate folly has not even left you that; but I will look out for one that will suit you. No matter, my dear, said my lady, smiling, and taking him by the hand. I will ride double, I think that will suit me best. Dearest of women! said my master (and he fetched

   I always prayed for her prosperity; but, madam, God is pleased to order things otherwise than we poor silly mortals think the best. My lady has always been good and pious, and I hope He will yet bring her out of her troubles, though they are great and many.

   My lady always charged me to be minute, and to write particulars; but, good madam, excuse the silly way I put my words together. I have not yet come to the dismal part of my story, and I hardly know how to go on, for indeed I am forced to break off every now-and-then to cry. Reason enough I have, to be sure; but what is my sorrow compared to my lady's!

   The day before yesterday my master was asked by some gentlemen in our neighbourhood to go a hunting: he had no mind to go, for my lady was not very well, and he was unwilling to leave her; but she persuaded him, because she knew he loved hunting dearly: she has blamed herself for it ever since; but she could not know by enchantment what was to happen. He left my lady in bed, and went out about five o'clock in the morning. At eight, as my lady was sitting at breakfast, and I attending, the other maid called me out. Our man, who had gone abroad with my master, was in the kitchen, and looked as pale as death. I asked him what was the matter? The poor fellow could hardly speak; but at last said, my master has got a desperate fall in leaping a ditch, and I am afraid has hurt his skull: he is lying at farmer Hill's cottage, and one of the gentlemen is rid off for a surgeon; but that is no place for him, we must get him home: but I thought it best to prepare my lady before she sees him. My lady rung her bell before

   My master was put to bed; he was alive, but not able to speak. He had got a dreadful cut in his head, and was sadly bruised besides.

   As soon as my lady came to herself, we told her my master was not killed. She went into his room, but had not

   My lady, on hearing him speak, seemed to be rouzed as if out of a deep sleep. Several of the gentlemen, who had been out with my master, had come to inquire how he did; and though some of them came into his chamber, my mistress did not speak, nor seem to regard any of them. The first word she uttered was to call me; Patty, said she, what is the reason I do not see Mr. Main here? It was my brother she meant, who is a surgeon; and I believe, madam, she has mentioned him to you, as one that is reckoned pretty skilful in his business. One of the gentlemen immediately said, By all means; let him be sent for directly. My brother

   My lady was not to be removed from the bed-side, nor could we persuade her to take any sustenance the whole day. My poor master was in a high fever all night; and I thought he strove to stifle his groans, that my lady might not hear them. She did for all that; and I am sure every one of them was worse than a dagger to her heart. She stole out of the room several times for a minute, and I could hear her bursting into tears as soon as she was without side the door; then she would come in again, and sit by him, till her heart was again so full, she was forced to go out to give it vent. The whole night passed over in this dismal way.

   When my master's head was examined the next day, my brother found that the

   Such another dismal day and night I believe never was passed in this house. My brother staid with us, though he could do but little service, except to watch my poor master, for he was between whiles quite out of his reason --

   No rest did my lady take all last night. She could not be got out of the room; she has tasted nothing these two days, nor slept a wink these two nights. -- She will destroy herself -- What will become of us? -- I have wrote to my lady Bidulph, to let her know the deplorable condition we are all in -- My God! what will become of the poor children, if my lady goes on at this rate! She cannot hold out to be sure, such a load of sorrow at her heart, without nourishment or sleep -- -. Oh, my good madam! I am not able to go on with my task -- We have not the least hopes in the world -- My master grows worse and worse every hour: he has his reason now, and is sensible that he is dying. Heaven knows, if I could lay down my life to save his, how gladly I would do it! I should be no loss, but he will be a grievous one -- -.

   Lord help me! I am not able to go on -- I have writ this by bits and scraps --

   [Mr. Main in continuation.]

   May 16, Three o'clock in the morning.

   Mr. Arnold has been delirious the

   She made me no answer, but seemed to study a little; then went composedly to Mr. Arnold's bed-side. My dear, said she, Mr. Downs is unluckily from home; his assistant is sick in bed; and we cannot to-night get any other clergyman to visit you: but as you are desirous of offering up your prayers to Almighty God, I hope it will not be improper if I read the service for the sick by you. He stretched out his hand towards her, and said, in a faint, yet eager voice, Do, do, my good angel! Tears stood in the lady's eyes as she turned from him; but she quickly wiped them off, and requested of me and the apothecary to join with her in the solemn office she was going to perform, which she said, though she was sensible it was an irregular act, yet she hoped, from the necessity of the case, would be accepted in the sight of God.

   She ordered my sister to fetch her a prayer-book; and then kneeled down at Mr. Arnold's bed-side.

   Surely nothing ever appeared so graceful' her fine hands and her fine eyes lifted up to heaven, while the book lay open before her on the table. Such a reverential, such an ardent, yet such a mournful supplication in those fine eyes! She looked like something more than human! After having in this posture offered up a short petition in silence, she began the service.

   Never did I see true devotion before; the fervor of her looks, and the tone of her voice was such, you would have thought she beheld her Creator with her bodily eyes. For my part, I looked on her with such reverence, that she appeared to me like an angel interceding for us poor mortal sinners.

   She went through the office with admirable strength of mind (omitting the exhortation) till she came to that part of the prayer, which says, 'yet forasmuch as in all appearance the time of his dissolution draweth nigh,' Etc. Here her voice faultered, and she stopped; but soon recovered herself, and proceeded with an unbroken tone to the end. Every

   I told her I would most willingly obey her commands, and sit up all the night with him, though it was not in human power to give him any assistance.

   She repeated her thanks, and then sitting down by the bed-side, remained composed and silent.

   About twelve o'clock, finding Mr. Arnold speechless, I entreated her to retire to her own chamber, and if she could not sleep, to take some little refreshment; for she had taken nothing that whole day, nor for the two preceding ones, but a dish of tea, which my sister had forced on her.

   Mr. Main, said she, suffer me to continue a little longer; my task will soon be over. I was unwilling to urge her; and she remained sitting in her place.

   About two o'clock we heard Mr. Arnold give a deep groan: He is gone! said

   I pray God to support and comfort this excellent woman.

   [Patty in continuation.

   Amen! Amen! -- Sure my dear unhappy lady is enough to break one's heart to see her. I was not able to go on, good madam, and begged of my brother to set down what happened, and he has put it in better words than I could. My lady shut herself up for the remainder of the night, and would not suffer any one to come near her; it is easy to guess how she spent her time: rest, to be sure, she took none; she could not, if she had been inclined, for there was no bed in the chamber where she locked herself up. In the morning, a lady, who is our neighbour,

   I have writ again to lady Bidulph: if she is able, to be sure she will come down; but I had rather she would send for my lady, for this is a sorrowful place for her to stay in.

   May 20. -- -My lady has received a letter from her mother, desiring her to come to town directly with the children. She says she is not able to come down for her, as her health is but bad; and my lady V -- has been so good as to send down her own coach to carry the little family to town.

   My brother has taken the care of my

   May 30. -- -Thank God we have got back safe to London. My lady keeps up wonderfully, under the load of grief that she has at her heart. She does not complain nor lament herself, as I have seen some do, who have not been in half her trouble. She hardly spoke a word during her whole journey, and strove as much as possible not to cry; but I could observe that she never turned her eyes on the two little babes, one of who sat in my lap, and the other beside me, but the tears ran down her cheeks.

   It was a doleful sight, the meeting between her and my lady Bidulph. The poor old lady grieves sadly, and looks mighty ill: I am afraid she will not hold out long; she has had great trials, for a

   June 1. -- -My lady asked me this morning if I had thought of keeping any journal for this fortnight past. I told her I had, and she desired to see it. She shed so many tears while she read it, that the paper was quite wet when she gave it to me again. She ordered me to make up the packet, and send it off, as she was not in a condition to add any thing to it herself.

   [Mrs. Arnold in continuation.]

   June 20. -- -Yes, my dear Cecilia, I have need of the tender condolements, with which your last kind packet was filled. Well may you call me a child of affliction; I am now so exercised in sorrows, that I look forward to nothing else.

   Patty, I find, has been a faithful journalist; and has carried down her melancholy narrative to this day: this day, on which,

   Yet in the midst of my griefs, ought I not to return thanks to heaven, that I have such an asylum to fly to, as the arms of one of the best of mothers? Oh, my dear! while I have her, I ought not to say, that I have lost every thing. Sir George has been more obliging since my fatal loss than he was before; but still there wants that cordial heart which he formerly had. As for his lady, I know very little of her. She came to see me twice since my arrival in town, in all the formal parade of a state visit. How ill does the vanity of pomp suit with a house of mourning! Her visits were short, formal, and cold. She seems to be intolerably proud, and I thought looked as if she was disgusted at visiting people in

   June 21. -- -Lady V -- , whose friendship has been one of the chief resources of comfort to me, went out of town this morning. She is retired, for life I fear, to a distant part of Lancashire, in order to spend the rest of her days with her eldest sister, a widow lady, of whom she is very fond. Her son's ill behaviour has disgusted her so, she has broke with him intirely. Her younger son is gone into the army, not, I find, with her approbation: and she told me, she has nothing now worth living for, at least nothing for which she should subject herself to the cares of life. She insisted on my corresponding with her; and renewed her assurances of that kind attachment, which I have already so strongly experienced.

   At another time the loss of this dear woman's society would have affected me more sensibly; but I am so inured to disappointment and grief, that I am almost become a stoic.

   Patty has already informed you, that Miss Burchell is often with us; she is more solicitous, more assiduous than ever in her attendance on my mother. I find she even sat up with her two nights, on an illness which seized her on her first hearing the news of my misfortune., Poor girl! My mother tells me she went so far as to express her apprehensions on my being again single; but my mother quieted her fears on that head (not without a soft reprimand for her doubting) by putting her in mind, that besides the circumstances not being altered in regard to her, she had received my solemn promise, that, whenever it was in my power, I would use my whole influence (whatever that might be) in her favour. I did make her such a promise, and shall fulfil it to the utmost.

   Mr. Faulkland's absence from the kingdom hitherto put it out of my power; nor would I, without my beloved Mr. Arnold's participation, have ever attempted it. Had he lived, fully restored as I was to his confidence and good opinion, I should have ventured to disclose the secret to him, and got him to join with me in such measures as I should have thought best for Miss Burchell's happiness. It now rests upon myself alone, and I will leave nothing unattempted to serve her.

   June 22. -- -You will be surprized perhaps, my Cecilia, when I tell you that Mr. Faulkland is now in England. Miss Burchell told me so this day. She mentioned it in a careless manner, rather directing her discourse to my mother. She had too much delicacy to hint at consequences of any kind from this circumstance, and quickly turned from the subject. My mother asked her impatiently, when he came; where he was; and several other questions; to none of which she could give any answer, but that she heard

   There is nothing now to prevent me from warmly interfering for Miss Burchell. Charming young woman, how is she to be pitied! The tedious years of suspence, of almost hopeless love, that she has passed, deserve a recompence; and her little boy, my mother tells me, is a lovely creature. Miss Burchell brought him once to see my mother; Mr. Faulkland's former house-keeper visits the child often, and has brought his mother frequent and large supplies for his use.

   I told Miss Burchell at parting to-day, that I had not forgot my promise: and that, as soon as decency would permit, nothing should hinder me from being a most strenuous advocate for her. She

   I would it were, then should she soon be happy. But I will acquit myself as far as I am able.

   June 23. -- -I was prevailed on to dine at my brother's to-day; the first time that I have been abroad ever since I came to town. I had no mind to go; but my mother, not being well, had excused herself; and she said, it would be taken amiss if I did so too, lady Sarah, herself having made the invitation. Her ladyship said, I need not be fearful of meeting strangers at her house, as it was to be a private day. So much the better, thought I; nothing else should induce me to go.

   It was the first time I was in Sir George's house, which is a very magnificent one, within a door or two of Mr. Faulkland's, in St. James's-square, as lady Sarah did not approve of that which he had before. But, my dear, the ostentation of this woman made me sick; such

   I was told her ladyship was dressing, though it was then, as I imagined, her dinner-time. After I had shivered here for about half an hour, lady Sarah's woman came to desire me to walk up stairs. As the woman did not know me, and from the little ceremony she saw me treated with, concluded I was some humble visitor, she took me up the back stairs to her lady's dressing-room, where I found lady Sarah, who was not yet half dressed, in consultation with her millener. The woman was trying some head-dresses on her before the glass. She made me a very light apology for having kept me waiting so long; and, to mend the matter, told me, as she was not near ready, if I

   My brother entered the room while she was thus employed; and having saluted me, looked at his watch, and asked lady Sarah, had she ordered dinner later than usual? She told him, she had ordered it half an hour later than ordinary, as she had a mind to make a long morning, having dedicated it to trades-people, with whom she ad a hundred things to

   Lady Sarah had by this time huddled on her cloaths: a laced footman appeared at the door, who summoned us by a silent bow to dinner.

   The millener gathered up her frippery and put them into a band-box; telling her, she would wait on her ladyship again. Lady Sarah answered, You have a monstrous way to go, Mrs. -- -(I forget the name); and, as I have not half done with you yet, you may stay and dine here, as we are alone, and I will look over the rest of the things in the evening, as I shall not have another leisure day while I am in town.

   This was going a little too far: Sir George felt it. I believe, lady Sarah, said he, this gentlewoman has a coach waiting for her at the door (he had seen it, for he was but just come in); perhaps it may be inconvenient to detain her; she may leave the things, and call another

   I made haste to put an end to my visit, as soon as I possibly could after dinner, with a resolution never to repeat it.

   From these few sketches of lady Sarah, you may form some kind of an idea of

   June 24. -- -I am told that the widow Arnold is actually married to that vile attorney who was the contriver, and more than partner in her iniquity. I am really glad she has lost the name of a family to which she was a disgrace. Every-body now believes that I and my children have been greatly injured; but how unavailing is compassion; it only mortifies, when it is expressed by the pitying words and looks of people, who have it neither in their power nor inclination to assist you. This Mrs. Arnold, bad as she is, is visited and caressed. Favour always follows the fortunate.

   June 25. -- -This day Sir George and his lady set out for Scotland. He came to take his leave of us; but made an apology for lady Sarah, whose hurry would not permit her to call on us. My brother

   July 7. -- -I have read over my journal of the last fortnight, and am startled to think what a poor insignificant being I am. Not a single act worth recording, even to you. My whole life perhaps may have passed so; yet one is apt to fancy that they are doing something of importance, while they are engaged in the little bustle of the world, be it in ever so trifling a manner; and when you find you have a variety of incidents to relate, in which you yourself were concerned, that your time has not been spent in vain. But for these last fourteen days, had I kept a journal for my cat, I think I should have had as much to say for her.

   July 8. -- -I shall grow busy again: I have received the promised letter from Sir George; an extraordinary one it is: but

   Dear Sidney,

   July4, 1706.

   I have a serious subject to offer to your consideration, which made me the rather choose to engage your attention in this manner, than in a conversation between ourselves; liable as that would be to interruptions, objections, and frivolous punctilios, from which you have already suffered so severely.

   I have paid so much regard to that decorum of which you are so fond, as never to have mentioned Mr. Faulkland's name to you since you were become a widow, though it is near four months since he returned to England.

   As I kept up a correspondence with him when he was abroad, you may be sure I informed him of your reconciliation to your late husband; a reconciliation which, if you thought it a happiness to you, you were indebted to Faulkland for. This single circumstance it was that inclined him to return to England, which otherwise

   Remember, Sidney, the great obligations you have to Mr. Faulkland, and let that prepare your mind for what I am going to say.

   You are now become a free woman: Faulkland loves you still, with an unparallel'd affection. I had a letter from him soon after your arrival in town, wherein he mentions the revival of his hopes from your present situation, and intreats me to be mindful of his interest. He charged me, however, not to mention his name to you, till a decent time was passed; otherwise probably you would have been acquainted with these particulars sooner: but Faulkland himself has a little too much of that ridiculous nicety

   I have very little reason to imagine that myinfluence, on this occasion, will have any weight either with you or my mother: I have had proofs of this already; but I hope you will not be so blind to your own interest, as to refuse the good that fortune once more throws at your feet. I can hardly suppose you so weak, as to let the absurd objection, which formerly prevented your happiness, still prevail with you to reject the same happiness, so unexpectedly again offered to your acceptance.

   My mother and you have by this time learnt how to forgive human frailties. Indeed you forgave such enormities, that Faulkland's transgression, in comparison of them, was innocence. But I will not reproach the memory of the dead.

   Whatever pretence yo might formerly have had to carry your punctilios to an extraordinary height, certain circumstances in your life have now made your situation

   I must take this opportunity of telling you, that I am surprized at my mother's continued attachment to Miss Burchell; she is an artful creature, and, I think, by no means a proper acquaintance for you. I am far from wishing to injure her; but such an intimacy may be dangerous.

   You will certainly hear from Faulkland before it be long. I repeat it again, You owe him more than ever you will be able to repay: the recompence he desires will ensure your own happiness and prosperity: your gratitude, as well as your prudence, will now be put to the test, and your conduct, on this occasion, will determine me as to the light in which I shall henceforth consider you.

   Present my duty to my mother. Lady Sarah desires her service may be accepted.

   I am, &c.

   What a letter is this, my sister! But, Sir George is still himself; gross; void of sentiment: he dreams of nothing but the glaring advantages that fortune and rank in life procure. And how he argues too! Weak Arguer! He will not suppose that the objection (absurd he calls it) which formerly prevented my happiness, should still prevail with me to reject the same happiness -- Why not? Is the nature of Mr. Faulkland's offence changed? Has he ever repaired it? Has not Miss Burchell the same claim she ever had? Nay, a stronger than ever, if years of unabated love can give it her? My mother and I have by this time learnt to forgive human frailties; nay, we forgave enormities -- Unkind brother, to rake up the unfortunate ashes of my beloved. We have, indeed, learnt to forgive human frailties; but they were the frailties of a husband, a repenting husband, who was seduced to the commission of those crimes which he abhorred: but surely that is no pleas for my overlooking the faults of another, to whom I am under no such tie. I am now without fortune, and incumbered

   No, my sordid brother! if I could recompence Mr. Faulkland as he deserves at my hands, I would do it; but, with such a mind as I bear, it cannot be done your way. I say nothing of the promise I made Miss Burchell; if I had never made her such, my sentiments would be the same from those other considerations; but such

   How unreasonable are Sir George's prejudices with regard to this unhappy young creature! He is for ever throwing out some invective against her. It is cruel; but I am tempted to forgive him, as I know it proceeds from his attachment to his friend. He need not put me in mind of the gratitude I owe Mr. Faulkland; I am thoroughly sensible of it; but Sir George and I differ widely in our ideas of expressing this gratitude. My conduct in this affair is to determine him as to the light in which he is hereafter to consider me. Why, be it so. He has long lost the tenderness of a brother for me; I will not regain it at the expence of my honour. I know the worst that can befal me is poverty. I have already experienced almost every possible ill in life but that, and for that I am prepared. But I will not call myself poor while I have an upright heart to support me; and the means, poor and despicable as they are, of sustaining

   My brother's letter has vexed and disgusted me exceedingly. Lady Sarah presents her service. Vain woman! is that a becoming phrase to the mother of her husband? I am so provoked, I think I shall not answer her: he has no relish for such arguments as I could produce in support of my own opinions, and my writing to him would only bring on disagreeable altercations. My mother is in a downright passion with him: Selfish wretch! she called him; and said, he would sacrifice both honour and justice to his own pride.

   July 19. -- -Miss Burchell; poor soul, how I pity her! Her anxiety increases

   July 20. -- -It has happened to my wish; a billet from Mr. Faulkland, sent with compliments and how-do-ye's, to my mother and me. Miss Burchell, who almost lives with us, was present when I received it: her colour came and went several times while our servant delivered his message. I gave the letter into her hand as soon as I had read it. There is nothing alarming in it, madam, said I; see yourself; only a few friendly lines, such as I might expect. Her hands shook while she held the paper. Now, madam, said she, returning it; now you have a charming opportunity of writing to him. I shall not fail, said I, to make use of it, and will let you see what I write.

   These are the contents of Mr. Faulkland's letter:

   Will you, madam, permit a forgotten though not the least zealous of your friends, to inquire after your welfare.

   The humblest, and

   Most devoted of your servants, Wednesday

   ORLANDO FAULKLAND. morning.

   Yes, Orlando, I must forbid you; I know the consequences of thy insidious visits. I'll try you to the quick. You have given me an opportunity of writing to you (I think) without any impropriety. Miss Burchell's interest is uppermost in my mind, and I will at least try what my influence

   How happy should I think myself, if my mediation, all potent as she called it, would have the desired success.

   July 21. -- -I wrote to Mr. Faulkland last night: my mother approved of the letter, which I shewed her before I sent it. Mr. Faulkland was abroad when it was left at his house; but as I received an answer to it early this morning, I will give you copies of the two letters together.

   I thank you, Sir, that you from my heart, for your friendship, and beg you will not think my ungrateful for having thus long deferred to pay you my acknowlegements for the signal favours I have received at your hands. I am sensible, Sir, that it was owing to your compassion, your generosity and disinterested nobleness of mind, that I was once indebted for the greatest blessing of my life. To you I owe the vindicating of my suspected faith, and the being restored to the affection of

   Do, Mr. Faulkland, permit pity to plead in your bosom for the dear Miss Burchell. I should urge paternal affection too; but to the voice of nature you cannot be deaf. Your sweet little son calls upon you to do him and his mother justice; the injured lady herself implores your compassion; my mother, who equally admires and loves her, intreats you; I, whom you once esteemed, conjure you; the secret monitor in your own soul must join in our solicitations. Why then, why will you shut your ears against the united voice of reason, of conscience, and of gratitude? You cannot, you will not do it. Miss Burchell's merit and sufferings must be rewarded; and I shall bless Mr. Faulkland as the guardian of the injured, the patron of the afflicted, the assertor of his own, as well as of my honour. This is the light, and this only, in which I shall rejoice to see him.

   Mr. FAULKLAND'S Answer.

   You do well, madam, you do well to anticipate my suit; and with so much cruel eloquence to bid me despair. Yes, I see Miss Burchell has won you to her party; but what have I done to merit such a malevolent fate, that you, you of all created beings, should become her advocate? I little thought Mrs. Arnold would make such a barbarous use of her power. Tell me, thou dear tyrant, how have I deserved this? Would it not have been kinder to have said at once, Faulkland, do not hope; I never will be yours; I hate, I despise you, and leave you to your fate? Oh, no! you are artful in your cruelty; you would prevent even my wishes, and cut off my hopes in their blossom, before they dare to unfold themselves to you.

   But you have furnished me with weapons against yourself, and I will use them with as little mercy as you have shewn to me. If three years are past since I won Miss Burchell's affections, is it not also as long that I have loved you with an ardor --

   Why do you compel me to urge an ungrateful truth in regard to Miss Burchell? Madam, she has no claim to my vows: my gratitude, my compassion, she has an ample right o, and she has them. More might by this time have been her's, if I had never seen Mrs. Arnold.

   Remember, I do not yet desire permission to throw myself at your feet; I revere you too much to make such a request; but do not banish me your presence. I cannot always be proof against such rigours. Indulge me at least in the hope that time may do something in my favour. I will not desire you to tell me so; but do not forbid it. Lady Bidulph knows I respect her; but she is still obdurate. If she relented, would not you, madam, do so too?

   I am, &c.

   How this man distresses me, my dear! What a difficult task have I undertaken! yet I will go through with it. I am fearful of letting Miss Burchell see this answer, so discouraging as it is for her; yet how can I with-hold it from her sight? 'Tis necessary I should conceal nothing from her on this occasion; she confides in me, and I must not give her cause for suspicion. She has no right to his vows. This he always said. It is necessary the lady should be quite explicit with me. I doubt she

   I have had a conference with Miss Burchell, a long one, and in private; for I told my mother I wished to talk with her alone.

   I began with shewing her Mr. Faulkland's last letter. It had the effect I expected. She was exceedingly shocked. I laid my finger on that paragraph, She has no right to my vows. It is necessary, my dear madam, said I, that you should be perfectly open and candid with me on this head. I have entered the lists for you, and will not give up your cause; but it depends on you to furnish me with every possible argument in your favour. If you mislead me by wrong insinuations, instead of putting it in my power to serve you, you will only create to yourself fresh obstacles.

   It is a nice subject, madam, and what I have ever been cautious of touching

   Mr. Faulkland relied so entirely on your candour, that, as I told you before, he referred my mother to you for a confirmation of the truth of what he advanced; imagining that your testimony

   Variety of passions discovered themselves

   She burst into a flood of tears: Oh, madam, you read my very soul! what disguise can I make use of before such penetrating eyes as yours? Yes, Mr. Faulkland has spoke the truth; shameful as the confession is for me, I own it. Mrs. Gerrarde, base woman! betrayed me; my own mad passion did the rest. Mr. Faulkland told me, a few days after the fatal evening, that he was the most miserable man on earth for what had happened: he said, there was a lady in

   In the midst of the horror into which the condition I found myself in threw me, I heard that Mr. Faulkland was on the point of being married.

   The prospect I had before me drove me to despair. I knew I could not remain long in my uncle's house. I knew not whither to fly. In my distraction I wrote to Mr. Faulkland: You, madam, saw the letter, that ill-fated letter, which deprived Mr. Faulkland of his happiness.

   I soon received an answer, wherein Mr. Faulkland related to me at large the unfortunate consequences that letter had produced. He lamented, in the tenderest

   'You know, said he, my dear Miss Burchell, I am not a seducer; rescue me from that black suspicion; and, as far as the unhappy case will admit, clear my honour to lady Bidulph. See what a reliance I have on your honour, when I trust the vindicating of my own to you, in such delicate circumstances. He concluded his letter with telling me frankly, that though he had been rejected by Miss Bidulph, he loved her with such an ardent passion, that it was impossible for him ever to think of any other woman; and till he had a heart

   You known Mr. Faulkland at this juncture went abroad; and thus was I circumstanced when I came to that house which he had provided for me. And so frank and noble were his proceedings, that I solemnly declare, I was determined, though at the hazard of divulging my own shame, to have acquitted him to the utmost of my power to lady Bidulph; and should have rejoiced, could I have been the means of procuring him the happiness he deserved, in regaining your favour; as I had been, though unknowingly, the unlucky cause of his losing it. But fortune had disposed of you otherwise before I saw lady Bidulph. This she quickly informed me of, and I will own to you, madam, that as I found there was now an insuperable bar to Mr. Faulkland's hopes, I was mean enough not to have the courage to speak truth. I saw it could not avail him, in regard to his prospects with you. Lady Bidulph's eye awed me; yet I think she led me into a

   They never shall, madam, said I: I thank you for this frank acknowlegement of your heart; such a proof of your confidence in me, I should be a wretch to abuse; and I hope to make such a use of the candid confession you have now made me, as will greatly promote your interest.

   And is it possible, madam, said she, you can yield up the interest you have in Mr. Faulkland without a pang? Oh, the exquisite charmer! and she said it with such an emphasis, drawing out her breath in long sighs. But you are heroic, as I

   My tears here bore witness to the truth of what I said: Miss Burchell wept too. Her mind was agitated; the confession she had made to me had humbled her; her heart overflowed with fondness; I had filled her with pleasing hopes: all these sensations combined together, melted her into tenderness: she is made up of tears, and sighs, and romantic wishes.

   I can now, said I, assure Mr. Faulkland, that you have done him justice, and that he is highly obliged to your candour.

   She interrupted me; But, madam, if he should know how late my acknowlegements came -- He need not know it, said I; my mother shall not know it neither; leave every thing to my management, and depend upon my word. She snatched my hand eagerly, and kissed it.

   But oh, madam! above all things, said she, let not Sir George Bidulph know any thing of your intended goodness in mediating for me. He hates me, implacably he hates me. I upbraid him not for it: his strong attachment to Mr. Faulkland is the cause of it: he accuses me in his heart of being the occasion (which I own I was, though ignorantly) of Mr. Faulkland's disappointment. I am sure, were he to know what you design in my favour, he would counterwork you, and use all his influence over his friend to ruin me.

   I made her easy on this head, by assuring her Sir George should know nothing

   I cannot help thinking, my Cecilia, that there is a sort of a fatality has attended Mr. Faulkland's attachment to me. By what a strange accident did we come to the knowledge of Miss Burchell's affair! How strong were my mother's prepossessions against Mr. Faulkland; and how many little circumstances concurred to encourage her in this disposition! His letter from Bath to my brother helped to confirm her in her dislike of his conduct; Miss Burchell's letter to Mr. Faulkland, though meant very differently, was a strong motive of condemnation. The only means of justification left for him my mother did not apply to, till it was too late; and then that very circumstance of its being too late to serve him, Miss Burchell acknowleges, was the reason that the very method which he had proposed for his defence, was turned to his condemnation.

   Rooted, as my mother's prejudices were, she engages herself, she engages me,

   I wish I had seen that letter which Mrs. Faulkland wrote to my brother from Bath: my mother said, she did not read it through. He treated the subject lightly, and there was one circumstance in particular in it that shocked her; and yet surely if the whole might not have borne a favourable construction, Sir George would not have shewn her that account, by way of justifying his friend. This reflection comes too late! Why did it not occur sooner to my mother or to me? We drew no other inference from Sir George's disclosing this letter, than that as Mr. Faulkland treated the affair ludicrously, it was therefore expected, both by him and my brother, that we should consider it so too. That could not have been the case. Miss Burchell's confession has opened my eyes.