LETTER the Thirty-ſecond.
Miſs ROCHLEY, TO Miſs LENOX.

I Have had a long converſation with my uncle, my dear Har⯑riot, on the ſubject of a certain [2] lord—but let that reſt a while, that I may go on methodically.

Orlando, as I gueſſed at the con⯑cluſion of my laſt, left me in order to follow his friend Lord Templeton, for this purpoſe he bent his ſteps towards Mrs. Bell⯑mour's, and met him juſt coming out of her houſe.

Well (cried my brother) what news my lord? have you had [3] an interview with the agreeable Miſs Jane Brown?

Firſt tell me, cried his lordſhip, what have I to hope? what ſays your charming ſiſter, did you ſucceed in pleading my cauſe? will ſhe deign to ſee me? to par⯑don me? to—

Not ſo faſt, my good friend, I have ſaid all that could be ſaid in your favour (anſwered my brother) [4] Iſabella, conſcious of her innocence is a good deal hurt at your con⯑duct, ſhe has a proper ſhare of pride my Lord—however you may poſſibly prove a better advocate than I have been.

Shall I then be admitted to the happineſs of ſeeing her, have you my dear Rochley gained that point for me? Ah! if I am ſo fortunate, I will not diſpair!

[5] But I ſhall (ſaid my brother, in⯑terrupting him, and ſmiling) of ever having my queſtion anſwered, if you go on at this rate, I aſk your lordſhip once more, have you ſeen that inſernal witch or not?

Step in with me (ſaid my lord) for they were by this time at his door, and you ſhall hear every particular.

Having deſired to ſpeak with Mrs. Bellmour, ſhe came to me [6] immediately, when I begged to know if Miſs Jane Brown was at home?

I believe ſhe is my lord, was the anſwer, wondering, I preſume what my buſineſs could be with the girl, and perhaps fancying, I had now caſt my eyes upon her, having failed in my endeavours to ſucceed with the lovely Miſs Rochley—ſhe rung the bell, how⯑ever (without requiring any ex⯑planation) [7] and ordered Miſs Brown to make her appearance.

In a few minutes in ſhe came, but no ſooner did ſhe ſee me, than the roſes left her cheeck and gave place to the lilly—or in other words more ſuitable to the ſubject, ſhe grew pale as death, and looked like the picture of horror and diſ⯑may.

Taking her epiſtle from my pocket, and preſenting it to her [8] view (though not with the greateſt compoſure I muſt own, when I reflected on the trouble and miſery ſhe had ſo knowingly and wickedly been the cauſe of) pray young woman, ſaid I, can you recollect doing me the honor of ſending me this?

My lord, replied ſhe (with much heſitation and apparent diſtreſs) I am not ſurpriſed at the queſtion—I expected it from the moment I [9] heard of the change in Miſs Rochley's ſituation—I did ſend it my lord, I indeed wrote it; but ſeverely have I reproached myſelf for being prevailed upon to become inſtrumental, in ſo baſe, ſo villain⯑ous a tranſaction, to ſay I was bribed for doing it, but adds to the crime; I will not, therefore attempt to plead that in extenuation of it.

Yet thus much I muſt beg leave to ſay, I was a ſtranger then to the [10] lady, and was perſuaded to believe ſome of the ſhocking circum⯑ſtances contained in that letter were true—I now know the whole to be falſe, and am unfeignedly ſorry for what I have done, lady Beningfield, my lord, had art enough to—

Lady Beningfield! (exclaimed I)

Yes, my lord, it was herſelf, who gave me the letter to copy, [11] ſwearing in the moſt ſolemn man⯑ner, the chief articles were mat⯑ters of fact, that it was with a view to ſerve your lordſhip, ſhe wiſhed you to receive it, and that if I complied, ſhe would not only give me fifty guineas in hand, but be my friend as long as ſhe lived.

I was too eaſily prevailed upon—I bluſh to confeſs it—but am ſomewhat conſoled by the re⯑flection that it has produced none [12] of thoſe miſchievous effects for which it was cruelly intended.

I once had thoughts of leaving London, in order to avoid this humiliating acknowledgment; but when I conſidered that by ſo doing, I ſhould effectually ſcreen the perſon who moſt deſerved to be expoſed, I determined to wait the iſſue, and if queſtioned, which I could not doubt I ſhould be, relate the whole truth as the [13] only attonement I could poſſibly make.

I have now done ſo, my lord—I am conſcious I deſerve your con⯑tempt only—and from you madam (turning to the aſtoniſhed Mrs. Bellmour) I have nothing to ex⯑pect, but diſmiſſion from your houſe.

We were both ſo amazed at what we had heard, that 'twas ſome [14] time before either of us could ut⯑ter a ſyllable.

At laſt, however, great your guilt has been, ſaid I, there is ſome merit in your ſo candidly confeſſing it, your manner of doing it too, is much in your favour, I therefore ſpare my reproaches—nay, I will do more, I will even intreat Mrs. Bellmour to follow my example.

[15] Ah! my lord, cried the poor girl, burſting into tears—this is too much, I was prepared to bear your indignation, but this un⯑hoped for generoſity over-powers me.

She was now near fainting with the violence of her agitation; and ſo ill, I was abſolutely tempted to pity her, wretch as ſhe had been! and wretch as ſhe had made me.

[16] In ſhort, before I left the houſe, I had prevailed on Mrs. Bellmour to give her hopes of pardon, and that ſhe would continue her in her employment.

And now, Rochley—what think you of that diabolical fury, Lady Beningfield?

Exactly what I thought before you begun your ſtory, for Iſabella gueſſed it could be the work of no other.

[17] All I now wiſh is, that we could hit on ſome puniſhment adequate to the heninouſneſs of the offence, I would give half I am worth, could I contrive to expoſe her as ſhe deſerves.

By Heavens! my dear friend (ſaid his lordſhip) I know nothing on earth I would not ſacrifice for that purpoſe, except your charm⯑ing ſiſter—but we may yet fall on ſome meaſures for that purpoſe— [16] [...] [17] [...] [18] at preſent I can think only of that moſt injured, moſt adorable of women, tell me now, my dear Rochley, when may I hope to throw myſelf at her feet.

Your lordſhip I fear muſt firſt throw yourſelf at thoſe of my uncle, for to tell you the truth, I am apt to believe you will find in him the greateſt bar to your felicity, he is extremely fond of his niece, and does not think the [19] man lives, who can deſerve her, par⯑ticularly him, who has preſumed, even for a moment to doubt her character, though with ſuch ſeem⯑ing proof—he will not eaſily par⯑don your giving credit to the ſtory, though I confeſs it was ſo plauſibly framed, that I cannot (partial as I am to my ſiſter) wholly con⯑demn you.

But do not deſpair—in me you have a firm friend, and but [20] for this curſed affair, could not I think have failed to find one in the breaſt of your (at preſent) rather angry, fair one, I told you ſhe has a proper ſhare of pride, that pride is a good deal piqued—however we muſt try what can be done.

I will now go and inform my uncle of what has juſt paſt, in order to pave the way for your lordſhip's reception—he was partial to you once, and doubt not in a ſhort [21] time he will become ſo again, ſo adieu.

Thus ſaying, they parted, and Orlando came home, where find⯑ing my uncle, and your Iſabella tete a tete, he gave us the above particulars.

I like his behaviour to the girl, ſaid he, (my uncle, I mean) there was ſomething generous in that, the poor devil could not reſiſt a [22] bribe, her letters have often found it too powerful for their honeſty—ſhe is beneath our notice; but that d—nd lump of quality, by Heavens! I'll have her ſent to bridwell, ſhe ſhall ſtand in the pillory! and I will hire a mob to treat her as ſhe deſerves.

We could not forbear laughing at the puniſhment he had found out for her, my imagination beging pretty lively, it at once ſet her [23] ladyſhip before me in that pleaſant elevation.

May I preſume to hope, Sir, ſaid my brother, that all things conſidered, you do not think his lordſhip quite ſo much to blame as he at firſt appeared to be.

You may preſume what you pleaſe, Orlando, (ſaid my uncle) but had his attachment been as violent as he took pains to per⯑ſuade [24] me it was he could not have been ſuch a puppy, as to be im⯑poſed upon by ſuch a confounded improbable ſtory.

The fellow muſt either be a fool, or a knave; but I am inclined to ſuſpect the latter.

It is now his intereſt to pretend he cannot live without my poor girl, and ſo he is come back to try what he can do to obtain her.

[25] No, no! had he married her, when he believed ſhe was not worth a groat, I ſhould have had a tolerable opinion of him, but now—who will thank him?

But, pray my dear Sir, were you not at one time fully con⯑vinced, not only of his ſincerity? but of his honorable intentions? (ſaid Orlando) had my ſiſter acted as many others in her ſituation would have done, had ſhe per⯑mitted [26] him to viſit her, have you any doubt that he would gladly have married her friendleſs, and pennyleſs as ſhe then appeared to be?

This rather ſtaggered him, Har⯑riot, for that he once believed ſo, and had every reaſon to believe it, he well knew.

What ſays my Iſabella to it? turning from my brother to me, [27] ſpeak freely, tell me ſincerely whether you think he ought to be pardoned for his monſtrous cre⯑dulity? as for your brother, he muſt be looked upon as prejudiced in favor of his friend.

Ah! my dear Sir! not more ſo, I am ſure, than in favor of his ſiſter.

O, ho!—very well!—I ſee how matters are likely to go, that ex⯑preſſive [28] ah! was not for nothing, and ſo you can really find in your heart to think, he is neither a fool, nor knave; but a very hand⯑ſome, and very inſinuating fel⯑low?

Come out with it my love, another, ah! my dear Sir! (kindly taking my hand, and ſmiling in my face) and his lordſhip's buſineſs is done.

[29] Indeed you miſtake me, Sir, all I meant was, to juſtify my brother, I am ſure he would be as te⯑nacious of my honor as I could be myſelf, never would he, I am certain, pardon any man, whether his friend or foe, who ſhould preſume to offer an inſult to me.

Was that all, my dear child? then I miſtook you intirely—well then, we are not to pardon him it ſeems, yet I could have ſworn by [30] a certain expreſſion in your coun⯑tenance a few minutes ago, you were more than half inclined [...]o be merciful.

We cannot prevail, you ſee Orlando, ſo you may tell his lord⯑ſhip, he need not take the trouble of coming here to dinner to mor⯑row, Iſabella forbids it, and ſhe is miſtreſs here.

My brother was delighted to find he had carried his point, per⯑haps [31] I too was not violently diſ⯑pleaſed; but 'tis certain we were both highly entertained, and di⯑verted by the drollery of my uncle's manner.

I ſoon after left them to ſettle the buſineſs at their leiſure, and with a heart as light as a feather, ſat down to repeat the whole to you.

And ſo Harriot, I am on the point of receiving this ſame lord, [32] who has made ſuch a buſtle a⯑mongſt us, as a declared lover—well my dear, he muſt e'en try what he can do in that capacity, if he can contrive to gain my heart, I have no objections; but obſerve, he has not yet done it, though, that he has occaſioned a few pal⯑pitations in it now and then, I cannot but own—being the friend of my Orlando is no ſmall recom⯑mendation, let me tell you; that circumſtance will go a great way with me.

[33] Don't you enjoy the idea of Lady Beningfield's ſtanding in the pillory? it would make a capital picture.

Adieu, my dear friend—I muſt now dreſs, as we are engaged to ſpend the evening at Mr. Har⯑court's.

To morrow!—aye child, to morrow! will be a day indeed! big with the fate of "Templeton and [34] Iſabella!" ah! theſe names will by no means do—too long by half a hundred ſyllables, the ſpeech is ruined by them—'tis a pity, Har⯑riot, as I think 'tis my firſt attempt in heroics.

LETTER the Thirty-third.
Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

YOU muſt, before this, have undoubtedly heard of the ſudden and moſt aſtoniſhing tranſ⯑formation in Rochley's circum⯑ſtances, [36] owing to the unexpected appearance of a rich uncle from India, who had for many years been ſuppoſed dead; but now, to my chagrin and bitter diſappoint⯑ment, "as I could wiſh the fellow ſteeped in poverty to the very lip," is this ſaid uncle returned loaded with wealth, which he takes pains to diſplay with all the pomp and ſplendor of eaſtern pride and magnificence, in order (as I am told) to do honor to the man, [37] whom of all others, I hold in the greateſt abhorrence.

Now Caroline will in a very ſhort time be of age, and of courſe her own miſtreſs, the conſequence of which is eaſily foreſeen, as ſhe will then moſt aſſuredly give both herſelf and fortune to him, who has ſo long reigned over her in⯑fatuated heart.

Sooner than this event ſhould take place, I would ſee her con⯑ſigned [38] to the extremeſt penury and diſtreſs.

One way there is to fruſtrate, and perhaps render abortive their vile machinations, and but one.

You have often told me you liked the girl, and was deſirous of marrying her, you have indeed offered ſuch terms as proves you are in earneſt, if this inclination ſtill continues, I have a propoſal to [39] make you, which cannot, I think, fail inſuring her your's, if you coincide with my plan, which is this.

If you, James, will agree to play the Knight errant for once, and carry her off to Scotland, I will undertake to put her fairly into your hands, to accompliſh which, I have a ſcheme, that I am morally certain will prove ſucceſsful.

[40] I would ſee that fellow d—nd before he ſhould marry a ſiſter of mine (he will triumph ſufficiently as it is) ſay the word, therefore, have you love enough to engage in this enterprize, have you alſo a ſufficient ſtock of courage for it?—ſhe has a curſed deal of the woman in her temper, let me tell you, that is to ſay, a devil of a ſpirit, ſo you muſt expect to be finely rated, when ſhe learns the trick we have played her.

[41] But what of that? drive on without heeding her tongue, your deſigns are honorable as they call it, what would ſhe have more?

You cannot be leſs than three days upon the road, ſhe will be tired of ſcolding before you reach the end of your journey—the larum cannot laſt for ever, and when you have reached it, ſend inſtantly for the blackſmith, alias the parſon, who will [...]etter you [42] both faſt enough in the hammer⯑ing of an anvil.

What if ſhe proves reſtive? you'll perhaps aſk, what's next to be done?

Why lock the door, and order the fellow to read the ceremony in her hearing, then whip her into the chaiſe again, ſwear ſhe is to all intents and purpoſes your wife, or at leaſt ſo much ſo as to pre⯑vent [43] her being lawfully the wife of any other.

I her guardian will on your re⯑turn confirm the union, this will terrify her, if any thing can, and finding no better may be, ſhe may chance to think, the man ſhe does not like better than none at all.

What ſay you to this? have you a mind to try the experiment? I again, ſwear by all that's ſacred, [44] Rochley ſhall never have her, if I can by any poſſible means pre⯑vent it, ſhe deſerves to be puniſhed for daring to think of marrying a fellow who had nearly murdered her brother.

Send me a line to let me know your mind; take care however, your meſſenger delivers it into my own hand. I have a ſhrewed ſuſ⯑piſion, a former one of your's (which was indeed intended for [45] her peruſal) fell into her's, though ſhe denied it.

We have no time to loſe, ſo be quick in your reſolutions, re⯑member you are to be upon honor—you marry her James—no tricks upon travellers—nothing leſs than matrimony, mind that, ſhe is my ſiſter,

LETTER the Thirty-fourth.
Sir JAMES HENDERSON▪ TO Sir JOHN WESTBURY, Bart▪

I Have juſt received your's, I have often told you, and with great truth, that I would give [47] half my eſtate to poſſeſs your ſiſter, as I really love her.

Your ſcheme is a wild one; but if you abſolutely think it practi⯑cable, I am your man.

It is a new whim to run away with a girl by the conſent, nay by the advice of her guardian.

It will be a deviliſh job I fear, but 'tis a comfort the tongue of a [48] woman does not wound mortally, ſo one may live to get over it.

I enjoy the idea of jockeying Rochley too, who thinks him⯑ſelf abſolutely ſure of her.

Depend upon my honor, the day ſhe is mine, I make a bonfire with your bond.

Let me know how I am to pro⯑ceed, and you ſhall find me ready at a moments warning.

[49] Do you intend to be of our party Jack? I think that would clinch the buſineſs—but do as you like, ſo as you grant us your for⯑giveneſs, when at our return from the North, we throw ourſelves at your feet to demand it.

Should ſhe have ſcruples in re⯑gard to the inſufficiency of the chains we ſhall be confined in, I will marry her again when we come back with all my ſoul.

[50] What can a fellow do more? but ſhe may perhaps rather wiſh to knock off thoſe, ſhe brings with her than ſtraighten them, you'll take care of that however.

I ſend this by Frank, who has inſtructions to deliver it with his own hand into yours, for fear of accidents.

I now only wait for the word of command, which I ſhall im⯑patiently [51] expect, ſo my dear brother elect, farewell,

LETTER the Thirty-fifth.
Sir JOHN WESTBURY, TO Sir JAMES HENDERSON, Bart.

BE upon the road to Stam⯑ford next Friday, about five o'clock in the afternoon with your [53] poſt-chaiſe, &c. &c. I have agreed to take my ſiſter to ſpend a few days at Lord Sandford's, 'twas this intended viſit put the ſcheme into my head.

One of my horſes ſhall fall lame, but not till I perceive you at a proper diſtance, then let your car⯑riage advance with the blinds up, as if empty—I will aſk the poſtillion to convey us the few miles we have to go, you may prepare him to agree to it.

[54] Sit ſnug in the corner and ſay nothing, till I pop her into the chaiſe, to this ſhe can make no poſſible objections, not ſuſpecting any trick.

When in, I, inſtead of follow⯑ing her, ſhut the door, wiſh you a good journey, give your horſes a farewell ſmack, and then getting into my own, drive quietly home again, (there's a fine contrivance for you).

[55] No uſe in my going with you, none in the world—my bleſſing and pardon ſhall be ready, when you return to aſk it.

Don't fail—be punctual to the time, and my life for it we carry the day,

LETTER the Thirty-ſixth.
Miſs ROCHLEY, TO Miſs LENOX.

WELL Harriot, the impor⯑tant interview, ſo long deſired, ſo ardently ſolicited, is at [57] length happily over—and all things are en train.

Should his lordſhip on a farther acquaintance find, or which is ex⯑actly the ſame thing to him, con⯑tinue to fancy, I really do poſſeſs all thoſe perfections his paſſion had decorated me with, 'tis not diffi⯑cult to gueſs what may in due time be the conſequence.

For to tell you a ſecret, I actually believe he poſſeſſes many [56] [...] [57] [...] [58] more than I had given him credit for.

As to his perſon, 'tis infinitely more elegant than I ſhould have inſiſted on, I never—no, never be⯑held one half ſo graceful, ſo com⯑pletely, what a man ought to be, excepting my brother, who is in my eyes equally accompliſhed.

But, though this I grant, is no ſmall recommendation, yet had I [59] found his mind and manner, did not deſerve ſo finiſhed a caſket, believe me it would not have pro⯑duced the ſmalleſt effect.

A handſome coxcomb is of all beings to me, the moſt unſuffer⯑able, I have too long had a pattern of excellence before me in my dear Orlando to be eaſily pleaſed; how⯑ever, I begin to think Lord Templeton bids fair to ſucceed.

[60] My uncle was for the firſt half hour of his viſit rather ſtately and wavering in his opinion, the idea of his having dared to think lightly of his Iſabella, (whatever appearances might be againſt her) ſtill dwelt on his mind.

He could not forbear a few ſevere hints on the ſubject; but my Lord was ſo attentive to him, made uſe of ſo many obliging con⯑ciliating expreſſions in regard to [61] his paſt conduct, &c. &c. that before the ſecond courſe was over, I could plainly ſee he was intirely reſtored to his good graces, and by the time they had finiſhed their claret, and joined me in the draw⯑ing-room to take their coffee, 'tis hard to ſay which appeared the greateſt favourite, his lordſhip or me.

My beloved Orlando is more delighted than I can expreſs, to [62] think the very man of his choice ſhould prove to be the man of mine, for this will certainly be the end of it, and a very agreeable ending too, Harriot, don't you think ſo my dear?

I had ſome thoughts of being more circumſtantial, more minute than I have been: I meant to have told you, as well as I could, how we both looked, when introduced to each other in form; but I have [63] changed my mind—'twas all very fine—very pretty indeed, as the old ſong ſays.

Amongſt many other queſtions in the courſe of the day, I aſked my lord, who the elegant creature was, who was with him and the amiable Lady Beningfield, the firſt time he ſaw me?

Gueſs Orlando's ſurpriſe and mine, Harriot, on his anſwering Miſs Weſtbury.

[64] He now told us, ſhe had found ſo ſtriking a reſemblance between my brother and me, that had not my name of Beverly convinced her to the contrary, ſhe could have ſworn I was his ſiſter—drole enough, is it not?

Ah! my charming Miſs Roch⯑ley ▪continued his lordſhip▪ but for that unfortunate name, I never ſhould have appeared to you the guilty wretch you muſt have thought me.

[65] Nor I neither, my lord (ſmiling) and therefore I ſhall deteſt it as long as I live,

And don't you begin to find a kind of diſlike growing upon you Iſabella (ſaid my uncle with one of his arch looks) for that of Rochley too?—young women are very apt to tire of the name they have been known by eighteen or nineteen years.

[66] And do they never tire of that they are ſimple enough to ex⯑change it for? my dear Sir—for unleſs you can aſſure me they do not, I will be in no hurry to part from mine.

But if I can aſſure you of it, (laughing) we are at liberty to ſuppoſe you do not care how ſoon that event happens, is it not ſo my dear?—don't you think her ſpeech implies as much, my lord? what ſay you Orlando?

[67] I deſire they will take care how they preſume to put a forced con⯑ſtruction on any words of mine, you my dear Sir, I allow to divert yourſelf at your Iſabella's expence; but I would adviſe them to be⯑ware how they attempt to be witty on ſuch a ſubject.

See what it is to be a favorite, (cried Orlando) my uncle may ſay what he pleaſes with impunity, while my friend and I here are only at [68] liberty to think what we pleaſe, was not this very ſaucy, Harriot?

Never will I, ſaid my lord (tak⯑ing my hand) preſume either to ſay or think any thing that can be diſpleaſing to Miſs Rochley.

Aye, aye, this is fine talking, (ſaid my uncle) but make no raſh vows my lord, you do not yet know her ſo well as I do, at preſent you no doubt take her for a down⯑right [69] divinity, an angel—but you will find her an artful inſinuating little baggage for all that.

I know not what you may take her for, replied his lordſhip, my dear Sir, but this I know, I can form no higher idea of felicity, than to take her as ſhe is.

Well, well, when I am tired of her company, perhaps I may make you a preſent of her.

[70] Not till then? ah, Mr. Doug⯑las!

She will not by that time be worth your acceptance (cried my uncle, interrupting him and laugh⯑ing) is not that what you was going to ſay? ſpeak honeſtly.

Indeed he ſhall not ſpeak honeſt⯑ly, I hate to hear diſagreeable truths.

[71] Apropos my lord, pray have you been to pay your reſpects to your good friend lady Beningfield? I wiſh your making ſo long a viſit here, may not tempt her ladyſhip to pay me a ſecond.

Let her try that joke, cried my uncle, (interrupting me, and much diſturbed by the recollection of what had paſſed) by the lord! ſhe ſhall meet with a warm reception, by heavens! I'll trim her better [72] than ever ſhe was trimmed in her life, though it may not do for a birth-day ſuit.

We all ſmiled at his energy, and my lord replied, he had called the moment he found the infinite obligations ſhe had laid him under, in order to thank her as ſhe de⯑ſerved; but was informed ſhe had juſt ſet off for Dover in her way to Paris.

[73] Where I ſincerely hope ſhe will never arrive, cried my uncle, for I think the packet can hardly eſcape ſinking that carries ſuch a load of iniquity.

May the firſt news I hear be, that ſhe is at the bottom of the ocean, yet the poor fiſh will be ſorely diſappointed, ſince they muſt be confoundedly hungry indeed, before they will venture to attack ſuch a maſs of paint and corruption.

[74] We again ſmiled at the drollery of his expreſſions, (though in fact they were very ſevere) and at the emotions with which he never fails to ſpeak of her ladyſhip, nor can one be ſurpriſed, for by what I can gather from ſome hints Or⯑lando has dropped, he has not eſcaped the venom of her tongue in the letter before mentioned, any more than I have done—the con⯑tents muſt be horrid I fancy, ſince I have not yet been able to obtain a ſight of it.

[75] I took an opportunity to aſk my lord, whether he had ever ſent a perſon to enquire my name.

He owned he had—adding, that having ſeen me at my window two or three times, he was ſo ſtruck with my appearance, that he could not reſiſt it; but after meeting me ſo unexpectedly in Mrs. Bellmour's appartment, he found he was no longer maſter of his heart.

[76] What followed, Harriot, you already know, and what is ſtill likely to follow, you may without the ſecond ſight venture to gueſs.

Having now brought matters this length, I muſt bid you adieu. I have a thouſand engagements upon my hands, a thouſand things to ſee in this great metropolis, to which I am at preſent intirely a ſtranger, his lordſhip, I preſume (being almoſt one of the family) [77] will contrive to give us his com⯑pany in all our future parties.

My affairs being now brought nearly to a criſis (as I ſaid before) our next care muſt be to conclude thoſe of my dear Orlando, en⯑gaged as he has been in mine, he has not, however, quite neglected his own, the ſprightly epiſtles he frequently receives from his be⯑loved, prevents deſpair.

[78] In a few ſhort weeks, Miſs Weſtbury will, I fancy, give him convincing proofs he need be under no apprehenſions of loſing her—ſhort I call them, but he makes a different calculation I preſume.

Farewell, my deareſt Harriot, believe me at all times, and in every ſituation of life, your moſt affectonate and ſincere friend,

LETTER the Thirty-ſeventh.
Miſs WESTBURY, TO Colonel ROCHLEY.

AS I believe, my dear Rochley, you intereſt yourſelf more in my affairs than any other per⯑ſon. [80] I am now going to give you an account of an adventure that I have lately been concerned in, which though I can now laugh at, and allow you to laugh with me, was by no means agreeable, or pleaſant at the time.

You was terribly out of luck my good friend, not to find your⯑ſelf ready on the ſpot, (Don Quixote like) to deliver your poor Dulcinea from the hands of the [81] baſe raviſher, who made ſo bold an attempt to rob you of her for ever.

Sadly out of luck I ſay, for had you on ſo important an occaſion reſcued me from him, I could not have done leſs according to all the laws of romance, than have re⯑warded you with my lilly hand to kiſs at leaſt, if not to keep.

But you, I ſuppoſe, while your poor terrified Caroline was in ſuch [82] a diſtreſsful dilemma, was flirting away with ſome of your London Belles, not ſo much as beſtowing a ſingle ſigh upon her—was it ſo Orlando?

To tell you a ſecret, did I be⯑lieve as much, you ſhould not be treated with the following de⯑lectable hiſtory.

You muſt know my brother, and I had promiſed to ſpend a [83] week or ten days at Lord Sanford's, near Stamford, and you know without my telling you, his dear and worthy friend and companion Sir James Henderſon, has long fancied himſelf moſt violently in love with your humble ſervant, a thing I abſolutely deny, fully con⯑vinced he is as incapable of love as the pen I write with.

Be that as it will, the creature had ſet his fooliſh heart on making [84] me his wife—my brother was, if poſſible, more deſirous he ſhould ſucceed than he was, for reaſons beſt known to himſelf, though ſhrewdly ſuſpected by ſomebody elſe.

Thus ſtood matters, when we ſet off on our intended viſit.

I had obſerved my plotting brother made a more than uſual buſtle on the occaſion, (conſider⯑ing [85] it was but a ſhort journey) but little dreamt I was the cauſe.

Well, away we drove—when be⯑hold, juſt as we had got within a mile or two of my Lord's ſeat, one of our horſes fell lame—or rather I preſume the poſtillion had orders to ſay ſo, for I believe it was no more lame than I was.

I had before we ſet out, ex⯑preſſed my ſurpriſe at my brother's [86] going with two only, he gave ſome ſilly reaſon for it, I forget what.

I then, however ſaid, had you as uſual had four horſes Sir John, this diſaſter would not have been of any great conſequence, as we could have finiſhed our journey with two; but now I ſuppoſe we muſt enjoy the pleaſure of tripping it on foot.

[87] At that moment, an empty poſt-chaiſe, as I then thought it ap⯑peared in view, coming towards us—he called to the driver, who ſtopping, was aſked, if he could convey us to Lord Sandford.

The lad replied, he had juſt carried his maſter there, who he durſt ſay would not object to it.

I was very well pleaſed at being ſo conveniently accommodated, [88] and followed my brother, who giving me his hand, put me into the carriage; but inſtead of get⯑ting in himſelf, to my aſtoniſh⯑ment haſtily ſhut the door, and told the fellow to drive on.

I now found it was not as I had ſuppoſed an empty vehicle, for to my utter confuſion and amaze⯑ment, I beheld my torment, Sir James Henderſon ſqueezed into one corner of it.

[89] Merciful Heaven! (cried I) who are you? what am I to think of all this? where is my brother? how came you here? theſe inter⯑rogations were all in a moment, as I was almoſt out of breath with ſurpriſe—the horrid wretch now made an attempt to take my hand, which I found means to prevent with a look of ineffable contempt.

Hear me patiently, my adorable Miſs Weſtbury, (ſaid the creature) [90] and I will immediately explain this miſtery.—

That I have long and ardently loved you, you well know, that your brother approves my paſſion, you alſo know—I had every reaſon to fear you would ſoon beſtow that dear, that invaluable, tho' cruelly withdrawn hand on another; on one, who though more fortunate in poſſeſſing the ineſtimable trea⯑ſures of your eſteem and affection, [91] is not perhaps more worthy of thoſe bleſſings than him, you have ſo repeatedly, ſo ſcornfully re⯑jected.

I could not bear the thought of being robbed of a felicity I value more than my life, and have there⯑fore had recourſe to this innocent ſtratagem to get you into my power, as the only method to overcome that unaccountable averſion you have ſo unjuſtly entertained for one, [92] whoſe paſſion will end but with his exiſtence.

We are now, my deareſt creature on the road to Scotland, where as ſoon as we arrive, I ſwear to make you honorably mine, by every ſolemn tie,

Ah! Heaven forbid! (inter⯑rupting his vile harrangue, at the ſame time wondering at my own patience in liſtening ſo long to it.) [93] have you then the vanity, the aſ⯑ſurance to believe the being honor⯑ably your's, would be a ſufficient reparation for this horrid, this unpardonable inſult.

No Sir! do not deceive yourſelf, be aſſured I would ſooner periſh than be your's at any time, or on any terms.

If theſe were my ſentiments, when in my brother's houſe; can you [94] be abſurd enough to imagine the affronting uſage I have received will alter them, and render me more complying? or that you can poſſibly force me to marry you contrary to my inclination; you cannot I think be quite ſo ridicu⯑lous, though after ſuch an inſtance of your wonderful contrivances and matchleſs confidence, it would be very near as ridiculous in me to be ſurpriſed at any thing you either do or ſay.

[95] This is being rather ſevere, Miſs Weſtbury; I own I flattered myſelf, the ſincerity of my paſſion (which after this proof of it, I believed you could no longer doubt) would have induced you to treat me with more indulgence, know⯑ing too I am authoriſed by your brother in what I have done.

Why, ſurely you have not the effrontery to give this inſolent be⯑haviour as a proof of your love?

[96] But I ſcorn to argue the matter with you, as I am ſure we never ſhall be of one opinion, ſo all I have to beg of you Sir James is, that you will be kind enough to ſet me down at Lord Sandford's without loſs of time: on that con⯑dition I will endeavour to forget your egregious folly.

No, by Heavens! madam I will not ſo ſoon, nor ſo eaſily part from you, with juſtice then might you [97] accuſe me of ſolly, if after having taken ſo much pains to make you mine, I ſhould ſuffer myſelf to be diſuaded from my purpoſe.

I have, as I told you before, (your brother's conſent) and even inſtructions for what I have undertaken, which will fully juſ⯑tify me in the public opinion for any idea of preſumptuous temerity, whatever it may do in your's, which indeed I am moſt ſolicitous about.

[98] The wiſeſt thing, therefore, my dear Miſs Weſtbury you can now do, is to make me the happieſt of men, by joining your conſent to that of your brother's—my for⯑tune! my family!

Talk not to me of your fortune and family! were I certain you were heir to the crown of Great Britain, I ſhould hold you in as much contempt and deteſtation as I do at this moment.

[99] So, pray Sir James order your poſtillion to turn back, going farther this way, you may be aſſured can anſwer no other purpoſe than expoſing you, you have an enter⯑priſing ſpirit, it muſt be con⯑feſſed; but I am not ſuch an ideot as to fancy you can ſucceed in this noble feat of heroiſm, while I have my ſenſes about me.

He bit his lips with vexation, my cool, my compoſed manner provoked him beyond expreſſion.

[100] Do me the favour to give the orders I deſired (continued I) to your ſervants.

Still he paid no attention to my requeſt.

If you will not Sir James, I muſt, ſo ſaying I made an attempt to let down the glaſs.

Look ye Miſs Weſtbury, cried the horrid wretch (holding my hands to prevent me) by all that's ſacred, you go to Scotland, on [101] this I am determined, and if after being a week or ten days alone with me on ſuch an expedition, a woman of your delicacy can think it prudent to face the world in any other character, than as my wife, I ſhall have a worſe opinion of you than I have at preſent.

The ſtory will be rather a⯑gainſt you madam.

People will not eaſily be inclined to credit, you could be forced into [102] a trip of this nature, 'tis not every day ladies are run away with againſt their will.

I gave him the moſt con⯑temptuous look I could aſſume, but was ſilent.

At length, finding all my rheto⯑ric had been ineffectual to make him relinquiſh his horrid purpoſe, I reſolved to make myſelf as eaſy as I poſſibly could, till we reached [103] the next inn, not doubting but I ſhould then be able to intereſt ſome perſons in my favour, by whoſe means I might be delivered from the wretches tyranny.

We arrived at our laſt ſtage about nine o'clock in the evening, when I ſuffered him to lead me in.

This condeſcenſion, I really be⯑lieve gave him hopes that his laſt wiſe ſpeech had made a due im⯑preſſion on me.

[104] I deſired the people of the houſe, as ſoon as we entered, to ſhew me into a room, as I found myſelf much ſatigued, both in mind and perſon.

Sir James now took the miſtreſs aſide, (and as I ſuppoſe) gave her a ſtrict charge to be watchful over me, fearing, if left to myſelf, I ſhould elope from him.

This was natural enough you know, ſo I took no notice, but [105] ſoon after followed our hoſteſs up ſtairs.

In about an hour he ſent his compliments to me, begging the honor of my company to ſupper.

Down I went, and in ſpite of my gloomy proſpect, and very whimſical ſituation, eat the wing of a chicken, the creature appeared delighted with my apparent change of diſpoſition, fancied all reſiſtance [106] was at an end, and that he ſhould ſhortly triumph in the conqueſt he had gained, our converſation in⯑deed was uot very brilliant, but I anſwered all his ſilly queſtions with chearfulneſs and temper.

When I was going to retire, (which I did early) he ventured to take my hand, wiſhing to know at what hour I would chuſe to proceed on our tour next morning.

[107] O! I ſhould not chuſe it at all, if I could poſſibly avoid it, but if I muſt abſolutely go, one hour is equally agreeable to me as a⯑nother.

So ſaying, I left him fully per⯑ſuaded (as I ſaid before) I ſhould make no further oppoſition, and as this was what I wanted him to believe, I did not repent the moderation I had obſerved.

[108] The ſervant, who conducted me to my room, was a decent looking girl—I at once told her the diſagreeable predicament in which I was, and added, if you can con⯑trive to get me a poſt-chaiſe, when all the family are gone to reſt, no matter at what hour, this purſe in which you will find ten guineas ſhall be your's—if not, I muſt wait till I get to the next inn.

The maid confeſſed her miſtreſs had given her orders to lock all [109] the doors leading from my appart⯑ment, and charged her to ſleep, or rather ſit up in one adjoining to it, in caſe I made any attempt to eſcape.

However, madam, ſaid ſhe, I think I may very lawfully diſobey her orders on an occaſion like this, and certainly will do ſo.

I am luckily wife to one of our poſtillions, and if he is at home, [110] I think I can eaſily prevail upon him to convey you hence—nor can I imagine either our maſter or miſtreſs will blame us, when I in⯑form them of the ſtory.

Go my good girl, and ſee what you can do.

Away ſhe went, and preſently returned, telling me I might de⯑pend on her huſband's being ready with the carriage at a little diſtance [111] from the houſe, this he propoſed, leſt the noiſe of it might alarm the family.

When all was quiet, which was not till near three o'clock in the morning, my honeſt friend con⯑ducted me to it, I gave her the purſe, with which ſhe was ex⯑tremely well ſatisfied, and got in, bidding the fellow drive as faſt as his horſes could gallop to Lord Sandford's, he feared it would be [112] too far, he ſaid, without changing, but ſaid he would try what he could do.

Away we flew like lightening—about ſix we were within a few miles of his lordſhip's ſeat, and as my apprehenſions were now pretty well ſubſided, I gave him leave to go to the next inn—there I got another chaiſe, took leave of my friend's huſband, having more than gratified him for his trouble, [113] and ſoon after arrived in ſafety at Lord Sandford's.

The ſervants were no doubt ſur⯑priſed at my early appearance—but judge how much more ſo my friend Lady Sandford was, when on en⯑tering the apartment, ſhe beheld me ſeated at the breakfaſt table.

I am amazed (ſaid her ladyſhip) Miſs Weſtbury!

[114] Even ſo my dear Lady Sandford, you ſee I am an early riſer.

An early riſer indeed! but where is Sir John? we expected you both yeſterday.

Sir John, is for ought I know to the contrary in his bed at home.

How do you mean, my dear Caroline? there is certainly ſome miſtery in this, your looks indeed [115] confirm it, pray explain it, for I am wholly at a loſs to comprehend you.

Why, you muſt know (ſaid I very gravely) I, yeſterday ſet off for Scotland on a matrimonial trip with Sir James Henderſon; but as we females will do ſome times, happening to change my mind, before I reached the end of my journey, I left him to enjoy his nap this morning about three [116] o'clock, and very quietly getting into a poſt-chaiſe, came here to make my apology for diſappointing your ladyſhip yeſterday.

They now all ſtared upon me with looks of aſtoniſhment, firmly believing I had loſt my ſenſes.

Come good folks I beſeech you, give me a cup of tea, for I am horridly fatigued I do aſſure you, not having reſted much ſince I [117] eft home, ſo ſaying, I began to help myſelf—do my dear Caroline, ſaid her ladyſhip (with an anxious kind of concern in her voice and manner) tell us what you mean, [...]ou really look ſo exceedingly [...]tigued, that I am rather alarmed, [...]d fearful you are not quite well.

O, perfectly ſo at preſent, tho' ſay the truth, I have been a [...]od deal hurried, and very much ſconcerted.

[118] This alarmed them ſtill more and finding they began to b [...] ſeriouſly uneaſy, I at laſt told them the whole affair; adding, I mea [...] with their permiſſion to make the [...] a longer viſit than they perhap either wiſhed or expected.

Than we wiſh, I am certain you will not my dear girl (ſai [...] his lordſhip) nor would you I a [...] ſure have propoſed it, had you n [...] known how happy you make all in ſo doing.

[119] My fingers are too much cramped with writing, my dear Rochley, to tell you all that was ſaid on the ſubject of my marvellous adven⯑ture.

Suffice it to add, that I am ſafely under my good friends hoſ⯑pitable roof, where I intend to continue till a certain day arrives, which, thank Heaven is not now far diſtant.

[120] I ſhall then expect that you will be kind enough to take me under your protection, and ſhould you wiſh to ſee me before that event takes place. I am commiſſioned in the name of all this family to promiſe you a welcome reception.

Even my very honorable brother has now I preſume, made his laſt effort to prevent our union, he will never attempt any thing far⯑ther I am perſuaded, on condition [121] that this ill-concerted and ill⯑fated plot is buried in oblivion.

Beware then, my dear Orlando how you mention it, leave that to others; if himſelf and friend have diſcretion enough to keep their own counſel, it ſhall ever remain a ſecret for me.

Do you think you can ſpare a day or two for an excurſion to this charming place? (it is indeed [122] delightfully ſituated) if you can, I am ſure you require no preſſing to accept the invitation made you by this family.

My lord is impatient to be perſonally acquainted with you, to your merit, he is no ſtranger; Lady Sandford having ſaid ſo much in your praiſe, that I had no oc⯑caſion to add my mite—he is a moſt agreeable (and what is ſtill better, a moſt amiable man) they [123] are indeed the happieſt couple I at preſent know; in a few weeks I expect, and hope there will be another pair as happy, I am ſtudy⯑ing the "art of pleaſing," and the "way to keep him," from my lovely friend—in the character of a wife, I mean Orlando.

Did you ever know a Miſs talk with ſo much compoſure of ma⯑trimony as I do?—I believe not.

[124] But I hate all affectation, all diſguiſe, and therefore, without farther ceremony, am going in⯑genuouſly and ſincerely to aſſure you, I am, moſt affectionately your's,

LETTER the Thirty-eighth.
Miſs ROCHLEY, TO Miſs LENOX.

MY dear Orlando has juſt given me leave to ſend you my Harriot the incloſed letter from [126] his beloved, which you will be much▪ pleaſed with; the great length will not admit tranſcribing, ſo muſt beg you will return it to me again as ſoon as you have peruſed it, and at the ſame time let me know your opinion of Sir John, and his very valorous and gallant friend Sir James? don't you think they make capital figures?

Never, ſure was there ſo fooliſh, ſo prepoſterous a contrivance, nor [127] one more eaſily eluded, the poor creatures were at their wits end, no doubt, (the road was not very long you'll ſay) or they never would have engaged in ſo ab⯑ſurd, ſo contemptible an enter⯑priſe.

Don't you admire Miſs Weſt⯑bury? how happy muſt my brother be with a woman ſo uncommonly amiable, and ſo ſenſible of his great worth.

[128] My uncle, who is now informed of their long and tender attach⯑ment, and the difficulties they have had to encounter, is quite charmed with her character, and ſays, ſhe beats me all to nothing; becauſe I ſtand ſhilly ſhally, (as he calls it) and do not know my own mind, not having yet determined, whether I ſhall accept Lord Temple⯑ton, as my lord; or refuſe his generous offers.

[129] He forgets I have not yet been ſo long acquainted with him, as Caroline as been with my brother; but whatever my uncle pretends to believe, or, however, he talks in ſuch a jeſting ſtile, I dare ſay he has no doubt about the matter any more than his lordſhip: tho' I have yet made no vows either way I do aſſure you.

Orlando ſat off for Lord Sand⯑ford's ſeat this morning, what [130] tranſport muſt he experience to be at length at liberty to viſit the miſtreſs of his affections, and freely to give vent to the grateful effu⯑ſions of his heart.

You never, Harriot, beheld ſo lively, ſo chearful a creature as he is become, judge then of my feel⯑ings, who ſo truly have ſympa⯑thiſed and lamented every miſ⯑fortune that has happened to one, ſo juſtly dear to me, (much more [131] as you know than I did my own) and now ſo gladly participate in his preſent felicitous proſpects.

Do not, my dear Iſabella, ſaid my brother (when juſt going to leave me) play the tyrant to my poor friend, let me find him as happy when I return as I am, were I not from a thorough know⯑ledge of his heart, certain he is worthy of poſſeſſing your's, believe me I would be the laſt to urge you in his favor.

[132] Promiſe me then, my dear ſiſter, that you will put an end to his cruel ſuſpence before I ſee you again, let me find your day fixed.

Ah! my dear brother! (inter⯑rupting him) that is going rather too far, you know it is impoſſible, 'tis time enough yet to talk of—

And, why impoſſible? or why time enough? (interrupting me in his turn) can it be ever too ſoon [133] to act ingenuouſly with generoſity and with candor; or too ſoon to confer happineſs on the man who adores you, take example by my Caroline.

Let her then ſet me the example, let her name her day, and I here promiſe my Orlando it ſhall be mine.

Her's cannot be ſo early as my ardent wiſhes would make it, you [134] know it cannot, my ſly ſiſter, or you would not be ſo ready with your promiſes.

Why, ſhe will be at age in leſs than a month, and conſequently at liberty, and the deuce is in it, if the man cannot bear my tyranny, (as you call it) during that ſhort time, when I am to take my chance of bearing his for ever after.

[135] You agree then, Iſabella, to give him your hand on the day I receive my beloveds?

I do! I here promiſe it! but for your life, not a word of this to his impatient lordſhip—'tis intirely entre nous, mind that Orlando.

I ſhould hate his knowing my mind ſo long before hand, though I wiſh to conceal nothing from you, the creature would be ſo [136] triumphantly happy, beſides I ſhould loſe half his attentions, his aſſiduity, once ſecure of his prize, he might chance to value it the leſs—ſo pray remember he is to know nothing of our agreement, I made the promiſe merely to pleaſe you, I do aſſure you Brother.

Very well, my dear, I am much obliged to you, (laughing) I ſhall certainly obſerve your directions [137] as far as I think them conſiſtent and reaſonable.

Ah! brother!—

And, ah! my dear ſiſter! (again laughing) but adieu, till I have the pleaſure of ſeeing you again, ſaying this, he diſappeared in an inſtant.

I ſaw him no more, Harriot; but in leſs than an hour, came [138] Lord Templeton, and by the joy that ſparkled in his fine eyes, (which ſeemed expreſſively thank⯑ful) I was fully convinced he had both ſeen and heard him.

He did not, however, I muſt ſay, give himſelf any airs upon the occaſion, nor utter one word tending to betray his friend, who had certainly betrayed me.

We go this evening to the Opera, his lordſhip is to dine [139] with us, the Harcourt's alſo. (who are of our party) Sophia is qnite in love with him, and vows if I do not make haſte to ſecure him to myſelf, ſhe will do her en⯑deavours to rival me in his af⯑fections—to tell you the truth, Harriot, I ſhould be deſperately mortified, were ſhe to ſucceed, though I cannot ſay I am under much apprehenſions.

In about a month from the date of this, I begin to fancy I ſhall [140] once more change my name, in the mean time I intend to make the moſt of my preſent liherty.

When a wife, I ſhall give up all the follies of my youth, and (like Lady Sandford, and as Miſs Weſt⯑bury promiſes) be an example to all thoſe who now figure in that ſober line—I mean to aſtoniſh the world by my conduct, it ſhall be quite on a new plan, ſo wiſe! ſo prudent! ſo—

[141] Here he is again I declare, and I am not yet half dreſſed, when my head was decorated, I ſat down to my pen, meaning to finiſh the buſineſs, when I had finiſhed my letter; but that never happens till I get to the end of my paper; for once, however, it muſt yield to ſo powerful a ſummons, or I ſhall be an abſolute fright.

So adieu my dear girl, I am in haſte, ever your's,

LETTER the Thirty-ninth.
The ſame to the ſame.

I Plead guilty, my dear Harriot, yet you ought to make ſome allowance for my preſent ſituation, conſider how very near it is to the [143] time, in which I ſhall ceaſe to be Iſabella Rochley, though to what⯑ever name I ſhall become intitled, I can never ceaſe to be your friend.

This day fortnight, Miſs Weſt⯑bury will be of age—and you know what the conſequences of that long and ardently deſired event are likely to prove, no leſs than a pair of wives, added to the venerable liſt of matrons.

[144] I need hardly tell you I am of courſe immerſed in buſineſs, man⯑tua-makers, milliners, &c. with me from morning till night—car⯑riage, jewels, and ſo forth, my de⯑lighted uncle, and no leſs delighted lover, have taken upon them⯑ſelves to provide, which is no more than they ought to do, as you muſt allow, and a moſt joyous buſtle the good ſouls are per⯑petually in.

[145] I was compelled to confirm the haſty promiſe I had inadvertantly made to my brother, as I ſoon found he had betrayed me, (which indeed I had before ſuſpected) to his friend, the moment I had been drawn in to make it.—

Well, it does not ſignify, I do not intend to retract, for ſince this grand affair muſt be complied with ſome time or other, one would not differ about a day or two.

[146] I am heartily rejoiced the ſtory of Sir John and his friend Hen⯑derſon has not tranſpired, I ſhould like to be a witneſs to their meeting, or rather to have been, for 'tis no doubt, long ſince paſt, as I pre⯑ſume the latter would hardly be ſo fond of the excurſion, as to proceed on his journey alone.

My uncle received a letter yeſter⯑day from the happy Orlando; con⯑taining a very polite, and preſſing [147] invitation from Lord and Lady Sandford to himſelf, your Iſabela, and Lord Templeton.

They intreat we will all pay them a viſit immediately, and ſtay there till the awful ceremony is over. His lordſhip's chaplain (Or⯑lando ſays) has undertaken the im⯑portant buſineſs of uniting us, it ſeems he did the ſame good office for his amiable benefactors.

[148] After diſcourſing over the matter amongſt ourſelves▪ it was at length agreed, we ſhould, without delay, accede to their obliging wiſhes, my brother preſſes it very much, as he ſays, he is impatient to intro⯑duce his Caroline to my uncle and me; I long alſo for that pleaſure no leſs than he does.

You remember, Harriot, I once ſaw her, though I little dreamt at that time, either who ſhe was, or [149] of what is now going to happen—ſhe is lovely beyond expreſſion in her perſon, and if I may believe my dear Orlando, (and her letters ſhould be a tranſcript of it) her mind is no leſs ſo.

An anſwer was diſpatched to my brother this morning, deſiring him to inform Lord and Lady Sandford, we ſhould do ourſelves the honor to attend them next Monday to dinner.

[150] Before that time, I dare ſay all my paraphernatia will be finiſhed, and I ſhall have nothing to think of, but the day on which I ſup⯑poſe, and am ſadly afraid I ſhall look exceedingly like a fool; but a perſon may ſubmit to that for once in their life, Harriot.

I have given a good deal of em⯑ployment to my friend Mrs. Bell⯑mour on this occaſion, we are both (Caroline and myſelf I mean) [151] to be preſented at court immediately after our transformation, ſo I have left the care of my dreſs for that day intirely to her, I have ſeen many proofs of her taſte, and as I have laid her under no reſtriction in point of expence, one may preſume I ſhall be immenſely fine.

The poor plotting girl, (Jane Brown) has hardly yet had courage to look up—She is, I believe, as ſincere a penitent as ever ſinned, [152] and as I am ſenſible of this by many circumſtances, I have been particularly kind to her, and no mortal can be more grateful.

Adieu my dear Harriot, I will, if poſſible write again before all is over, though I fancy I ſhall ſcarcely find more time for it at Lord Sand⯑ford's than I do at preſent, buſy as I am—half a dozen lines you ſhall have, however, coute qui coute, were it only that this may not be [153] the laſt opportunity I ſhall have of ſubſcribing myſelf,

LETTER the Fortieth.
The ſame to the ſame.

HERE we are my dear Harriot, and I defy the world to pro⯑duce a happier ſet of beings, our reception was exactly ſuch as I [155] wiſhed to find it, Lord and Lady Sandford are a moſt delightful couple, both handſome and pleaſing in their manners beyond expreſſion.

Ah! it is! it is the very ſame charming creature! (cried Miſs Weſtbury, while my Orlando in⯑troduced me to her) it is the lovely Miſs Beverly! with whom I was ſo ſtruck ſome months ago; your very picture Rochley, never were [156] two creatures ſo much alike—he preſſed her hand to his heart, which ſeemed to exult with tranſ⯑port.

And I, my dear Miſs Weſtbury, could, were it neceſſary, bring many witneſſes to prove that the elegance of your perſon, and ſweet affabillity of your manner, made a no leſs favorable impreſſion on me, the partiality I inſtantly con⯑ceived for you, was wholly diſin⯑tereſted, [157] as I found no reſemblance between you and any favoured lover—perhaps I am as much in⯑debted to that circumſtance for your very flattering attention as to any other cauſe.

Indeed, but you are not (ſmil⯑ing at the turn I had given her com⯑pliment) it was wholly owing to your own charms, not his I do aſſure you, yet I will honeſtly confeſs—not if you liſten though my good friend, turning to Orlando, who [158] ſtood looking at us with pleaſure, ſparkling in his expreſſive, coun⯑tenance—you are not to hear all our ſecrets, don't you know Roch⯑ley, liſteners ſeldom hear good of themſelves.

No rule without exception, my lovely Caroline, and I am deter⯑mined to believe the ſweet con⯑feſſion you was going to make would have evinced it.

[159] Ah! the vanity of ſome men, (ſmiling on him) don't he deſerve to have his lowered a little my dear Miſs Rochley? was he always thus vain?

No, indeed! nor had he ever before you deigned to ſmile upon him, ſo much reaſon, who would not be vain, thus highly honored—

Heavens! (exclaimed the lively Caroline) what an agreeable pair of flatterers.

[160] O! cried Lord Sandford, coming up to us (juſt as ſhe ſaid this) if you are only engaged in flattering each other, I may as well break up your party, ſince we wiſh for ſome ſhare of your converſation; but I ſhall change the nature of it I can tell you, Lady Sandford knows I never could flatter in my life.

And, yet my lord, (ſaid her ladyſhip) I have not the vanity to [161] imagine you can really fancy I de⯑ſerve all the fine things you ſo kindly ſay to me, I ſhould be too happy, durſt I believe them your real ſentiments, and perhaps too vain alſo.

Come, come, (cried my good uncle) let me make one amongſt you, and I will ſet you all to rights preſently, nobody will ſuſ⯑pect me I preſume of that failing, my ſincerity has never yet been called in queſtion.

[162] Then I know, (my dear Sir, ſaid I) who has great reaſon to guard againſt a certain foible, for if that is the caſe, ſhe muſt be the moſt perfect of all human beings.

We were now, Harriot, inter⯑rupted by a ſummons to table, which we found covered in the moſt elegant and ſumptuous man⯑ner, the entertainment, indeed was ſuch as would have amply [163] gratified the palate of the moſt finiſhed epicurean, but was nearly thrown away upon us lovers, who chiefly feaſted on each others looks.

Happineſs was depicted in every countenance, and pleaſure ſat ſmiling in every feature, the con⯑verſation as you may imagine was chearful and expreſſive of the ſatisfaction we enjoyed in our happy meeting.

[164] A good deal of company aſ⯑ſembled in the evening, ſome ſat down to cards, others to chat, in the latter claſs were included Miſs Weſtbury, and your Iſabella, our beaux, you may believe, followed our example.

Great things are talked of for a certain day, we propoſed a maſked ball, ſince they were at all events determined to make a ſhow of us; but to this, my uncle objected, [165] politely complimenting us by ſay⯑ing faces like ours were not made to be concealed; a ball, however, is reſolved on, and half the country is to be invited.

Caroline and her Orlando intend writing to Sir John on the occaſion, his having behaved ill is no rule to them, his conſent to their union is to be aſked, though it is in fact a mere compliment, ſince it certainly does not depend upon [166] his anſwer—what that anſwer will be, Heaven only knows, not very gracious we apprehend.

Our good uncle has put it in my brother's power to offer ſuch ſettlements as Sir John cannot re⯑fuſe however, he may object to the ſettler—to your Iſabella he preſents twenty thouſand pound on the day ſhe gives her hand to Lord Templeton.

[167] Can I ever, my friend, be ſuf⯑ficiently thankful to providence for raiſing us ſo generous, ſo noble a benefactor, who with ſuch unbounded liberality, has contributed to our felicity, may Heaven preſerve his precious life, and enable us by our grateful at⯑tention, to his every wiſh, render his latter days happy.

Now, my dear, adieu: ah! Harriot! I am going for the laſt [168] time to ſubſcribe myſelf your truly affectionate and ſincere friend, by the loved name of

LETTER the Forty-firſt.
Lady TEMPLETON, TO Miſs LENOX.

I AM actually married, Harriot!—abſolutely a wife to all in⯑tents and purpoſes!

[170] Yet would you believe it, I am ſtill the very ſame kind of girl I was before the important event took place? I do all I can how⯑ever to aſſume a grave, matronly appearance, and try to give my⯑ſelf a few conſequential airs; but I make a ſad hand of it, nor does my ſiſter ſucceed much better, nay worſe I verily think, for ſhe is, if poſſible, more giddy, more lively than ever, however time may do much, indeed my lord in⯑ſiſts [171] upon it I am already in every reſpect a pattern of all per⯑fection.

Orlando ſeems inclined to think, that his Caroline alone merits that character, though I believe he al⯑lows his Iſabella is intitled to ſtand ſecond on the liſt.

Dear creatures! all I aſk of Heaven, is that they may continue through life to think of us, as [172] they do at preſent; can we flatter ourſelves this will be the caſe, Har⯑riot?—I dare not anſwer that queſtion.

Sir John has not thought fit to take any notice of either of the letters, and as he did not, his ſilence was taken as conſent, this he no doubt expected—they did their duty, if he would not fol⯑low their example, who can help it?

[173] Lord and Lady Sandford have agreed to accompany us to town, and to ſpend the reſt of the winter there, my kind uncle makes a point of it, that Orlando and his fair wife are to take up their re⯑ſidence with him in Portland-Place, ſaying he ſhould be miſer⯑able, were he deprived of us both.

As for poor Iſabella! you know, Harriot, I muſt follow my lord [174] and maſter, his houſe is in Portman-Square, and I am told ſuperb.

And to that houſe, Harriot, I am ordered by him to give you an invitation, which you are ear⯑neſtly intreated to accept of im⯑mediately.

Set off then, my dear girl with⯑out loſs of time, come and con⯑gratulate your friend on her [175] felicity, 'tis as perfect as I can wiſh, and more ſo than a frail mortal has any right to expect, (but if there is a poſſibility) it will receive a conſiderable augmen⯑tation, if my Harriot will be ſo obliging as to indulge me with her company.

I have ſome thoughts of making a match between you and my good uncle, he can have no objections, and ſurely you will not preſume [176] to object becoming the aunt of one you have from infancy loved, and who will ever remain,