which perhaps she has from Miss Grandison, and she, not unlikely, from the stolen letter: for Miss Grandison hinted at it, but I thought it was only to excite my curiosity: [When one is not in good humour, how one's very style is encumbered!]—The hint is this, that it is more than probable, it will actually be proposed to me, to take down with me to Northamptonshire this young lady-I, who want a governess myself, to be-But let it be proposed. In a conversation that passed just now between us women, on the subject of love, (a favourite topic with all girls,) this poor thing gave her opinion unasked; and, for a young girl, was quite alert, I thought. She used to be more attentive than talkative. I whispered Miss Grandison once, Don't you think Miss Jervois talks more than she used to do, madam? I think she does, madam, rewhispered the arch lady. You have it, Harriet, then.—But let her prate. She is not often in the humour. Nay, with all my heart; I love Miss Jervois: but I can't but watch when habits begin to change. And I am always afraid of young creatures exposing themselves when they are between girls and women. I don't love whispering, said Miss Jervois, more pertly than ever but my guardian loves me; and you, ladies, love me, and so my heart is easy. Her heart easy!-Who thought of her heart? Her guardian loves her!-Emily shan't go down with me, Lucy. Sunday morning, March 19. 0 BUT, Lucy, we are alarmed here on Miss Jervois's account, by a letter which Dr. Bartlett received a little late last night from Sir Charles; so shewed it us not till this morning as we were at breakfast. The unhappy woman, her mother, has made him a visit. Poor Emily! Dear child! what a mother she has! I have so much obliged the doctor by delivering into his hands the papers that our other friends have just perused, (and, let me say, with high approbation,) that he made no scruple of allowing me to send this letter to you. I asked the favour, as I know you will all now be very attentive to whatever relates to Emily. Return every thing the doctor shall entrust me with by the first opportunity. By the latter part of this letter you will find, that the doctor has acquainted Sir Charles with his sister's wishes of a correspondence with him by letter. He consents. to it, you will all see; but upon terms that are not likely to be complied with by any of his three sisters; for he puts me in. Three sisters! His third sister!-The repetition has such an officiousness in it. He is a good man; but he can be severe upon our sex-It is not in woman to be unreserved-You'll find that one of the reflections upon us: he adds; and, to be impartial, perhaps they should not. Why so?-But is not this a piece of advice given to myself, to make me more reserved than I am? But he gives not himself opportunity to see whether I am or am not reserved. I won't be mean, Lucy, I repeat for the twentieth time. I won't deserve to be despised by him.-No! though he were the sovereign of the greatest empire on earth. In this believe your HARRIET BYRON. LETTER IV. SIR CHARLES GRANDISON, TO DR. BARTLETT. [Enclosed in the preceding.] March 18. I HAVE had a visit, my dear and reverend friend, from Emily's mother. She will very probably make one also at Colnebrook, before I can be so happy as to get thither. I despatch this, therefore, to apprise you and Lord Lof such a probability; which is the greater, as she knows Emily to be there, through the inadvertence of Saunders, and finds me to be in town. I will give you the particulars of what passed between us, for your better information, if she goes to Colnebrook. I was preparing to attend Lord W ment, when she sent in her name to me. as by appoint I received her civilly. She had the assurance to make up to me with a full expectation that I would salute her; but I took, or rather received, her ready hand, and led her to a chair by the fire-side. You have never seen her. She thinks herself still handsome; and did not her vices render her odious, and her whole aspect shew her heart, she would not be much mistaken. How does Emily, sir? galanting her fan: is the girl here? Bid her come to me. I will see her. She is not here, madam. Where is she then? She has not been at Mrs. Lane's for some time. She is in the best protection: she is with my two sisters. And pray, Sir Charles Grandison, what do you do with her? The girl begins to be womanly. intend to She laughed; and her heart spoke out at her eyes. Tell me what you propose to do with her? You know, added she, affecting a serious air, that she is my child. If, madam, you deserve to be thought her mother, you will be satisfied with the hands she is in. Pish!-I never loved you good men: where a fine girl comes in their way, I know what I know She looked wantonly, and laughed again. I am not to talk seriously with you, Mrs. Jervois! But what have you to say to my ward? Say! Why, you know, sir, I am her mother: and I have a mind to have the care of her person myself. You must (so her father directed) have the care of her fortune: but I have a mind, for her reputation's sake, to take the girl out of the hands of so young a guardian. I hope you would not oppose me? If this be all your business, madam, I must be excused. I am preparing, as you see, to dress. Where is Emily? I will see the girl. If your motive be motherly love, little, madam, as you have acted the mother by her, you shall see her when she is in town. But her person, and reputation, as well as fortune, must be my care. I am married, sir: and my husband is a man of honour. Your marriage, madam, gives a new reason why Emily must not be in your care. Let me tell you, sir, that my husband is a man of honour, and as brave a man as yourself; and he will see me righted. Be he who he will, he can have no business with Emily. Did you come to tell me you are married, madam? I did, sir. Don't you wish me joy ?—— Joy, madam! I wish you to deserve joy, and you will then, perhaps, have it. You'll excuse me-I shall make my friends wait. This woman mar I could not restrain my indignation. ries, as she calls it, twice or thrice a year. you will find time, perhaps, to talk with He is of one of the best families in Ireland. not let me be robbed of my daughter. Well, sir, then Major O'Hara. Aud he will Major O'Hara, madam, has nothing to do with the daughter of my late unhappy friend. Nor have I any thing to say to him. Emily is in my protection; and I am sorry to say, that she never had been so, were not the woman who calls herself her mother, the person least fit to be entrusted with her daughter. Permit me the favour of leading you to your chair. She then broke out into the language in which she always concludes these visits. She threatened me with the resentments of Major O'Hara; and told me, he had been a conqueror in half a dozen duels. I offered my hand. She refused it not. I led her to her chair. I will call again to-morrow afternoon, said she, (threatening with her head); perhaps with the major, sir. And I expect you will produce the little harlotry. I left her in silent contempt.-Vile woman! But let nothing of this escape you to my Emily. I think she should not see her but in my presence. The poor girl will be terrified into fits, as she was the last time she saw her, if she comes, and I am not there. But possibly I may hear no more of this wicked woman for a month or two. Having a power to make her annuity either one or two hundred pounds, according to her behaviour, at my |