ever enough, they said, to reverence him as one of the most worthy and most pious of men. They believed, that he knew all the secrets of their brother's heart.

Strange, methinks, that these secrets lie so deep! Yet there does not seem any thing so very forbidding, either in Sir Charles or the doctor, but that one might ask them a few innocent questions. And yet I did not use to be so very curious neither. Why should I be more so than his sisters?-Yet persons coming strangers into a family of extraordinary merit, are apt, I believe, to be more inquisitive about the affairs and particularities of that family, than those who make a part of it: and when they have no other motive for their curiosity, than a desire to applaud and imitate, I see not any great harm in it.

I was also very anxious to know, what, at so early an age, (for Sir Charles was not then eighteen,) were the faults he found with the governor appointed for him. It seems, the man was not only profligate himself, but, in order to keep himself in countenance, laid snares for the young gentleman's virtue; which, however, he had the happiness to escape; though at an age in which youth is generally unguarded. This man was also contentious, quarrelsome, and a drinker; and yet, (as Sir Charles at the time acknowledged to his sisters,) it had so very indifferent an appearance, for a young man to find fault with his governor, that, as well for the appearance-sake, as for the man's, he was very loath to complain, till he became insupportable. It was mentioned, as it ought, greatly to the honour of the young gentleman's frankness and magnanimity, that when, at last, he found himself obliged to complain of this wicked man to his father, he gave him a copy of the letter he wrote, as soon as he sent it away. You may make, sir, said he, what use you please of the step I have taken. You

see my charge. I have not aggravated it. Only let me caution you, that, as I have not given you by my own misconduct any advantage over me, you do not make a still worse figure in my reply, if you give me occasion to justify my charge. My father loves his son. I must be An altercation cannot end in your favour.

his son.

But on inquiry into the behaviour of this bad man, (who might have tainted the morals of one of the finest youths on earth,) which the son besought the father to make, before he paid any regard to his complaints, Sir Thomas dismissed him, and made a compliment to his son, that he should have no other governor for the future, than his own discretion *.

Miss Jervois's history is briefly this:

She had one of the best of fathers: her mother is one of the worst of women. A termagant, a swearer, a drinker, unchaste-Poor Mr. Jervois !—I have told you, that he (a meek man) was obliged to abandon his country, to avoid her. Yet she wants to have her daughter under her own tuition-Terrible!-Sir Charles has had trouble with her. He expects to have more-Poor Miss Jervois !

Miss Emily's fortune is very great. The ladies say, not less than 50,000l. Her father was an Italian and Turkey merchant; and Sir Charles, by his management, has augmented it to that sum, by the recovery of some thousands of pounds, which Mr. Jervois had thought desperate.

And thus have I brought down, as briefly as I was able, though writing almost night and day, (and greatly indulged in the latter by the ladies, who saw my heart was in the

* See further, Letter XXXVII.

task,) the history of this family, to the time when I had the happiness (by means, however, most shockingly undesirable) to be first acquainted with it.

And now a word or two to present situations.

Sir Charles is not yet come down, Lucy. And this is Monday!-Very well!—He made excuses by his cousin Grandison, who came down with my cousin Reeves on Sunday morning; and both went up together yesterdayVastly busy, no doubt!—He will be here to-morrow, I think, he says. His excuses were to his sisters and Lord L. I am glad he did not give himself the importance with your Harriet, to make any to her on his absence.

Miss Grandison complains that I open not my heart to her. She wants, she says, to open hers to me; but, as she has intricacies that I cannot have, she says I must begin: she knows not how, she pretends. What her secrets may be, I presume not to guess: but surely I cannot tell a sister, who, with her sister, favours another woman, that I have a regard for her brother; and that before I can be sure he has any for me.

She will play me a trick, she just now told me, if I will not let her know who the happy man in Northamptonshire is, whom I prefer to all others. That there is such a one somewhere, she says, she has no doubt and if she find it out before I tell her, she will give me no quarter, speaking in the military phrase; which sometimes she is apt to do. Lady L smiles, and eyes me with great attention, when her sister is rallying me, as if she, also, wanted to find out some reason for my refusing Lord D. I told them an hour ago, that I am beset with their eyes, and Lord L's; for Lady L keeps no one secret of her heart, nor, I believe, any body's else, that

she is mistress of, from her lord. Him, I think, of all the men I know, (my uncle not excepted,) I could sooner intrust with a secret. But have I, Lucy, any to reveal? It is, I hope, a secret to myself, that never will be unfolded, even to myself, that I love a man, who has not made professions of love to me. As to Sir Charles Grandison-But have done, Harriet! Thou hast named a man, that will lead thee-Whither will it lead me?

More than I am at present my own, I am, and will be ever, my dear Lucy,

Your affectionate

HARRIET BYRON,

LETTER XXVI.

MISS BYRON.-IN CONTINUATION.

Monday, March 13.

I WILL now tell you who the lady is to whom the two sisters have given their interest.

It is Lady Anne S, the only daughter of the Earl of S. A vast fortune, it seems, independent of her father; and yet certain of a very great one from him. She is to be here this very afternoon, on a visit to the two ladies. With all my heart. I hope she is a very agreeable lady. I hope she has a capacious mind. I hope-I don't know what to hope-And why? Because I find myself out to be a selfish wretch, and don't wish her to be so fine and so good a woman, as I say I do. Is love, if I must own love, a narrower of the heart?—I don't know whether,

while it is in suspense, and is only on one side, it be not the parent of jealousy, envy, dissimulation; making the person pretend generosity, disinterestedness, and I cannot tell what; but secretly wishing that her rival may not be so worthy, so lovely, as she pretends to wish her to be.-Ah, Lucy! were one sure, one could afford to be generous: one might then look down with pity upon a rival, instead of being mortified with apprehensions of being looked down upon.

But I will be just to the education given me, and the examples set me. Whatever I shall be able to do or to wish, while I am in suspense; when any happy woman becomes the wife of Sir Charles Grandison, I will revere her; and wish her, for his sake as well as her own, all the felicities that this world can afford; and if I cannot do this from my heart, I will disown that heart.

The two ladies set upon Mr. Grandison on Sunday, to get out of him the business that carried Sir Charles so often of late to Canterbury. But though he owned that he was not enjoined secrecy, he affected to amuse them, and strangely to romance; hinting to them a story of a fine woman in love with him, and he with her; yet neither of them thinking of marriage: Mr. Grandison valued not truth, nor scrupled solemn words, though ludicrously uttered, to make the most improbable stuff perplexing and teasing; and then the wretch laughed immoderately at the suspense he supposed he had caused.

What witless creatures, what mere nothings, are these beaux, fine fellows, and laughers, of men!-How silly must they think us women!—And how silly indeed are such of us, as can keep in countenance, at our own expense, their folly!