CHAP. I.

SIR CHARLES, the subject of this history, was the only son of sir Thomas Grandison, a person fond of magnificence and splendor: who va­lued himself on his breed of race hor­ses and hunters, and on his kenne [...] in which he was prodigiously extra [...] ­gant. He inherited from his fathe [...] [...] in England, which brough [...] [...] 6000l. a year, and another in Ireland, worth about 2000l. per annum, be­sides [Page 4] a very considerable fortune in money. His lady, who was of a no­ble family, also brought him a great fortune. She was a most excellent wo­man, to whom he was a complaisant, but careless husband. Soon after his marriage, giving way to his predomi­nant inclination for pleasure, he en­tirely left the care of the family to her: and [...] applied her­self to the domestic duties: finding that she could not prevail on sir Tho­mas to reduce his expenses, she thought it prudent to use her utmost endea­vours to enable him to support them, without discredit to himself, or any visible injury to his family. Yet this lady, while she used the best oecono­my, was free from all narrow, mean, and selfish views. She was beloved for her benevolence and generosity, and idolized by her poor neighbours. She had a plentiful table, and was ex­tremely hospitable, both from her na­tural goodness, and to give credit to her husband. By this excellent lady, sir Thomas had a son and two daugh­ters, who received from her the best part of their education, she instilling [Page 5] into their young minds the first princi­ples of christianity, and strong ideas of moral rectitude.

Sir Thomas, considering his daugh­ters as an incumbrance, grew extreme­ly fond of his son, and placing all his affections on him, was desirous of his becoming master of every accomplish­ment. He early filled his [...] with high notions of [...], and bef [...] he had reached [...] year, [...] ­vided him a master to instruct him in the science of defence: hence the amiable youth soon acquired such skill in the weapons, as gave th [...] greatest satisfaction both [...] his father and mas­ter. He had remarkable strength of body, with great agility: and this ex­ercise added to both, while the prai­ses he received from his father and mas­ter, so inflamed his co [...]ge, that he was almost tempted to wish for a sub­ject to exercise it upon. His excellent mother, however, tremble for the ef­fects of their praises, which, [...] dread­ed, might render him too [...]ble to take off [...], and to resent it with the sword, to the danger of his own [...] or of [...]is future peace of mind; [...] [Page 6] was continually discoursing to him on the virtues of true magnanimity, the law of kindness, benevolence, and forgiveness of injuries; frequent [...]ly re­minding him, that wha [...] he was then learning was called the science of de­fence, and not of offence.

Mr. Grandison had the misfortune to lose this best of mothers while young: but it was▪ by a circumstance that deeply imp [...]ssed all her lessons on his heart. His father was brought home, as it was thought, mortally wounded in a duel, when this good la­dy's surprise threw her into fits, from which she was never after free, and the danger in which sir Thomas con­tinued for a considerable time, with her extraordinary solicitude and care in attending him night and day, broke her constitution, and brought her into an ill s [...]ate of heal [...]h, which soon pro­ved fatal. A few hours before this ex­cellent lady expired, after having, on general principles, warmly recom­mended to her children, duty to their father, and brotherly and sisterly love, as necessary to their happiness, [...]he had a private discourse with her son, [Page 7] on the same subject, in which, with great affection, she recommended his sisters to him: they entering at this instant, found him in tears, when the am [...]able youth, taking each of their hands, kneeled down, and put them into his mother's extended dy­ing hand: then bowing his face up­on all three, he cried, all, madam—all my dearest, best of mothers that you have enjoined—He was un­able to proceed; but their arms were bedewed with his tears. Enough, enough, my son, I distress you! she returned; and kissing her own arm, added, these, my dear, are precious tears,—you embalm me with your tears,—O how precious the balm! Then lifting up her head, she kissed him, and repeated her blessings.

Upon her dea [...]h, the engaging youth became inconsolable. He loved his father, but had been more particular­ly fond of his mother. Sir Thomas, though he had given but little atten­tion to his education in general, was extremely fond of him; and had taken the less care on this head, as he was well convinced that this neglect would [Page 8] be well supplied by his excellent lady, who had mingled her instructions with those of the masters of the several s [...] ­ences, who, at her desire, attended up­on him.

CHAP. II.

THE young gentleman being seized with a deep melancholy on his suffering so irreparable a loss, his fa­ther, who was also greatly grieved, (and the more so, as he could not help reproaching himself for having, in some measure, been the occasion of that loss) yielded to the entreaties of [Page 9] general W. his late lady's brother, to permit him to travel. The general re­commended for a governor to mr. Grandison, one Creu [...]zer, an officer under him, who, having been wound­ed, was obliged to quit the [...]. Sir Thomas allowed his son, who w [...] now about seven [...]een, 800l. a year, from the time of his setting ou [...] on his tra­vels; and some time after, raised his allowance to 1000l.

Creutzer, though recommended by his uncle, soon convinced mr. Gran­dison, that he was a most abandoned profligate. The young gentleman had, however, the happiness, by his pru­dence, to escape several snares, which this artful wretch laid for h [...]s virtue, from the hopes, that if he could betray him into them, he should silence his remonstrances against his own had conduct, and prevent his complaining of him in his letters to sir Thomas.

When they were at Turin, mr. Grandison commenced an acquaint­ance with dr. Bartlett, governor to mr. Lorimer, a young gentleman, with whom mr. Creutzer became ex­tremely intimate: and the two for­mer [Page 10] became as clos [...]ly united from their good qualities, as the two latter from their bad ones. Several riotous things were done there by mr. Grandison's governor and Lorimer, who, not­withstanding the doctor's using his ut­most endeavours to keep them asunder, were almost cons [...]antly together. But one of their explo [...]ts rendering them in danger from the civil magistrate, Creutzer, to avoid the [...] sh [...]eu [...] he deserved, fled to Rome, from whence he wrote to desire mr. Grandison to join him in that city.

The worthy youth, who had often in vain threatened to complain of him to his father, then sent to inform him of the profl [...]gacy and abandoned prin­ciples of the man who had been placed over him, in order to direct his con­du [...]t, and to intreat h [...]m to appoint him ano [...]her governor, or permit h [...]m to return to England, till he had cho­sen one for him. In the mean time, [...]e besought dr. Bar [...]let [...], to allow him to apply to him for his advice and instruction, till he had received his fa­ther's answer. Sir Thomas wrote him word, that having heard of his pru­dence [Page 11] from every [...]th, he gave him full liberty to choose w [...]a companion he pleased, and appointed him no other governor but his own discretion. Up­on this mr. Grandison, more earnest­ly than before, with a modesty and di [...]dence of himself, suited to his na­tural generosity of temper, which wou [...] never permit him to grow vain and assuming upon indulgence, intrea­ted the doctor's directions with the greatest earnes [...]ness: and when they were obliged to p [...]rt, they es [...]ablished a correspondence that la [...]ed as long as their lives.

While the empty and profligate mr. Lor [...]mer passed through a few of the cit [...]es of Lombardy, where he spent his time in dissipation, and in attend­ing the idle diversions of the places in which he lived; mr. Grandison made the tour of almost the whole of Eu­rope, and yet took sufficient time to make such remarks upon persons, pla­ces, and things, as could scarcely be supposed the observations of a man so young.

Dr. Bartlett, observing the idle manner in which mr. Lorimer spent [Page 12] his time, was th [...] [...]ore patient, as he hoped the carnival at Venice would be over before his pupil got to that ci­ty. But Lo [...]mer, suspecting that he intended to prevent his being there, gave his governor the sl [...]p, and got thither at the very beginning of it. The doctor was obliged to follow him; and on his arrival at Venice, [...] th [...] mortification to hear, that he was [...] of the most dissolute persons there. When he saw him again, he set before him the example of mr. Grandison, a much younger man; and endeavoured to inspire him with emulation, by reading to him some of mr. Grandi­son's letters. But all the effect these had upon him, was to increase his aversion both to his governor and to that gentleman. However, by one of these letters, he for a time obtained some rep [...]ation. It was written some months before it was shewn h [...]m, and described some places of note▪ through which mr. Grandison had passed. He therefore contrived to steal it; and his father having frequently desired him to let him see a specimen of his observations on his travels, he copied [Page 13] it almost verbati [...] and sent it a [...] his own. The doctor was greatly surprised on his rece [...]ving a congratulatory l [...]t­ter from his father, on his son's im­prove [...], mixed with some little asp [...]y a [...] the doctor's having repre­se [...] him in a too disadvantageous [...]. The [...] father observed, that [...] never believe that a [...] of [...] genius, and he was [...] he [...]ded [...]ing but to apply. He then gave orders for doubling the va­ [...] of his next remittance. Upon this [...]or Bar [...]lett taking the young gen­ [...] to task, he owned what he had [...], and seemed greatly elated at his contrivance. His governor, how­ever, thought proper to undeceive the father. Mr. Lo [...]mer, enraged at doc­tor Bartlett for exposing him, and for his continually obstructing his law­less pursuits, was determined to make him repent it; and becoming ac­quainted with a courtezan, who by her subtle and dangerous contrivances had ruined many young travellers, they joined in a resolu [...]on, to be revenged on the doctor, whom they consider­ed a [...] their greatest enemy. They form­ed [Page 14] several projec [...] and one of them proved so successful, as to put his life in the greatest danger. Great [...] had been taken with Lorim [...] [...] instruct him in the hi [...]ies of an [...] [...]ece and [...] is [...] a learned man▪ [...] very de [...] [...] those places of anc [...] [...] which he had read so much [...] Bartlett, with great diffi [...] [...] vailed on the young [...] leav [...] V [...] ­nice, where the vile woman, and the diversions of the place▪ had ta [...] scandalous hold of him. He took [...] with him to Athens, where he at [...] found that the very woman, [...] given him such uneasiness at Venice, had followed them, and was still Lo­rimer's mistress. However, upon their being guilty of some fresh enormities, he complained of her to the tri­bunal of Christians, consisting of eight venerable men out of the eight divisions of the city, who deter­mine causes among the Christians; when, they taking cognizance of the facts, this abandoned woman suborned wretches to accuse the doctor to the cadi, who is the Turkish judge [Page 15] of the place, [...] [...]flected person: and he being corr [...]ted by present [...] [...] the va [...]ode o [...] governor to [...] on which the doctor was [...]zed, and thrown into [...]. His Chri [...]an fr [...]ends in the [...] were [...] [...]den to interpose [...] favour. [...] [...]as denied the use of pen and ink, [...] all access to him was prohibited. After which, the vile woman, having [...]aken proper measures with the per­sons she [...] suborned for continuing [...]he worthy doctor in his severe con­finement, returned with her para­ [...] [...] Venice, where they aban­d [...] themselves to the most dissolute manner of life.

In the mean time, mr. Beanchamp, a young man of learning and fine parts, who had some time before made an acquaintance with mr. Grandison, vi­siting Athens, was informed of the doctor's misfortune; and being told that mr. Grandison was [...] a [...] Con­stantinople, sent a man on purpose to inform him of the whole affair, with all the particulars that had come to his knowledge. Mr. [...]rancison, at [...]is information, was struck with gri [...]f [Page 16] and astonishment, and immediately ap­plied to the English ambassador at the Porte, and also the French minister there, to whom he was known. They made application to the grand vizier; upon which an order was issued for setting the doctor at liberty. Mr. Grandison, with a view to hasten the Chiaux who carried it, accompanied him, and reached Athens just as the vayvode, who had found the doctor's finances exhausted, had determined to get r [...]d of the whole affair in a pri­vate manner, by the bow-string. The danger endeared the doctor to the ge­nerous mind of mr. Grandison: and so happy and seasonable a relief en­deared mr. Grandison to the doctor; while both of them were filled with gratitude to mr. Beauchamp, who had busied himself in the be [...] manner he could, to suspend the fatal blow, and would not leave Athens, [...]ill he had seen the doctor delivered.

Mr. Lorimer's father, not having the least idea that his son had any con­cern in the plot formed against doctor Bartlett, wrote to in [...]reat that gentle­man, when he had obtained his liber­ty [Page 17] to take h [...]s son again under his care, and the doctor, as little think­ing then, that his pupil had been ca­pable of so base an [...]nstance of villainy, returned to Venice, and got him out of the hands of the vile woman; after which they went to Rome. But there the unhappy Lorimer continuing his profligate courses, at length became a sacrifice to his vices. On his death­ [...]ed, he confessed his connivance at the plots which this infamous woman had formed against the doctor, and particularly that which she had carri­ed into execution at Athens. He was filled with horrors not to be described, and as his dea [...]h approached, begged for l [...]f [...] with the greatest earnestness, pro [...]sing▪ on that cond [...]tion, the most perfect reforma [...]ion. The manner of his death, an [...] the cr [...]es of which he confessed h [...]self guilty, by the insti­gation of the most aba [...]oned of wo­men, so shocked and [...] his gov­ernor, tha [...] he fell s [...]k.

In the mean wh [...]le, [...]r. Grandison vis [...]ed several parts of Asia and Af­ri [...], and in particular, Egypt, during which time he carried on a corres­pondence [Page 18] with dr. Bar [...]lett. On his return to Italy, and joining his two friends, he engaged the doctor to ac­company mr. Beauchamp▪ into some of the eastern reg [...]ons, which he him­self had been particularly pleased with, and as he said, wanted to be more ex­actly informed of: and therefore in­sisted on its being undertaken at his own expence▪ for he knew that mr. Beauchamp had a step-mother▪ who had preva [...]led on his father to take off two th [...]rds of the allowance he made him▪ when he set out on his travels.

That gentleman was very unwilling to comply with the conditions imposed on him by his beloved friend. But mr. Grandison was never at a loss for arguments to keep those in counte­nance, whose interest he promoted, and to make their acceptance of his favours appear to be both a duty and an obligation conferred on himself. Indeed mr. Grandison delighted in doing good. Thus, while he was at [...]horn, where he resided some time for the conveniency of the English chapel, he lent an honest [...]rades [...]n a considerable sum on his bond; but [Page 19] after a while, things not answering the poor man's expectation, that benevo­lent young gentleman took notice, that he seemed dejected, and occa­sionally came into his company, with such a sense of obligation in his be­haviour and countenance, as filled him with compassion. Why, said he to himself, should I keep it in my power to distress one, whose modesty and diffidence shew that he deserves to be made easy? My life is uncertain. I may die suddenly. My executors may think it but justice to exact payment: and that may involve the poor man in as great difficulties as those from which this money has delivered him. I will therefore make his heart light, and instead of suffering him to sigh over his uncertain prospects a [...] his board or in his bed, I will make both easy to him. His wife and children shall re­joice with him; they shall see his countenance again shine upon them, and occasionally meet mine with grate­ful comfort. He then cancelled the bond; and at the same time fearing that the poor man's distress might be deeper, than he was willing to acknow­ledge, [Page 20] offered to lend him a farther sum. But by his behaviour upon this generous offer, he found that the sum he owed, and his doubts of being able to pay it in time, were his only griev­ances; for he gratefully declined the additional offer, and from that time walked erect, with a chearful counte­nance.

CHAP. III.

WE are now going to enter on many interesting scenes arising from mr. Grandison's con [...]ons with persons, who from henceforward will make a very considerable figure in this history, and with whom it is necessary to render the reader ac­quainted.

[Page 21] At the city of Bologna, and in the neighbourhood of Urbino, are two branches of a noble family, who are marquisses and counts of Porretta, and trace their pedigree from the R [...]man Princes. In Bologna is the Marchese della Porretta, a noble­man of distinguished merit, whose la­dy is illustrious for her descent, her prudence, her goodness of heart, an [...] sweetness of temper. They have three sons and a daughter. The eldest of the sons is a general officer in the ser­v [...]ce of the king of the two Sicilies, and is a man of great honour and distin­guished bravery, but being proud of his descent, is haughty and passionate.

The second, who belongs to the church, is already a bishop. The [...], who is called Seignior Jeronymo, and sometimes the barone della Poretta, has a regiment in the king of Sardinia's service. The sister is beloved by them all. She has a fine person, is gentle in her manners; and has lofty, but just notions of the honour of her sex. She is pious, beneficent and charitable.

The ingenuous and engaging mr. Grandison became intimate with Seig­nior [Page 22] Jeronymo, while at Rome. This youth had many fine qualities. He had such a sweetness of manners, and was so delightfully gay and lively, that eve­ry one sought for his company: but he unhappily had a set of dissolute companions, with whom he was very desirous of bringing mr. Grandison acquainted. That gentleman suffered himself several times to be brought [...]n­to their company: but as he found they were totally abandoned in their morals, he earnestly endeavoured to draw his friend from such dangerous companions, by opposing their liber­tine principles; but, infatuated by a love of pleasure, he had not the co [...] ­rage to forsake them, or to resist their attacks upon his morals. However, mr. Grandison's friendship was so sin­cere, as to induce him to make use of all his abilities to reclaim him. But finding his repeated admonitions were [...] no purpose, he had recourse to writing and sent him a friendly and affectionate letter, in which he represented the weakness of the arguments used by his libertine companions; and in a forcible manner represented the mo­tives to virtue and honour, and the [Page 23] meanness which is the inseparable companion of guilt. Let us consider, said he, the objects of your pursuit, are the women you have seduced from the path of virtue, who would, per­h [...], have otherwise married, and made useful members of society. What a capital crime is a seduction of this kind! Can you glory in the virtue of your own sister, and allow yourself to destroy the virtue of the daughter or the sister of another? Men, in the pride of their hearts, are apt to suppose that nature has design­ed them to be superior to women. The highest proof, that can be given of such superiority, is the protection afforded by the stronger to the weaker. But what can he say for himself and his proud pretensions, who employs all his art to seduce, betray, and ruin her, whom he ough [...] to guide and protect?—Sedulous to save her, perhaps, from every foe but the devil and himself! What a blessing are good children to their parents! but what comfort can a parent have in children born [...]he heirs of disgrace; and who, owing their very being to profligate prin­ciples, [Page 24] have no family honour to sup­port, no fair example to imitate—but must be warned by their father, when he is convinced by bitter experience, to shun the paths he has trodden? On the other hand, how delightful is the domestic connexion! to bring to the paternal and fraternal dwell­ings, a sister, a daughter, that shall [...] received with tender love, to strengthen your own interests by an alliance with some noble and worthy family, who shall rejoice to trust to the barone della Porretta, the darling of their hopes. This would, to a gene­rous heart like yours, be the source of infinite delights. But could you now think of introducing to the friend you revere, the unhappy object of a vag­rant affection? Must not my Jerony­mo estrange himself from his home, to conceal from his father, from his mo­ther, from his sister, persons shut out from their society, by all the laws of ho­nour? Justly do you boast of the nobili­ty of your descent, of the excellence of every branch of your family. Bear with my question, my lord—are you deter­mined to sit down with the honour of [Page 25] your ancestors? Your progenitors, and every one of your own family, have given you reason to applaud their worth; will you not give them cause to boast of yours? You have showed me letters from your noble father, from your mother, from the pio [...]s prelate your brother, and still, if pos­sible, more admirable ones from your sister, all filled with concern for your present and fu [...]ure welfare. How dear­ly is my Jeronymo beloved by his whole family; and how tenderly does he love them! What ought to be the result? Jeronymo cannot be ungrate­ful. He knows so well what belongs to the character of a dutiful son and affectionate brother, that I need not attempt to enforce their arguments.

The Barone had a high spirit, and could not bear to be opposed i [...] [...]ny pursuit, in which his passions we [...] en­gaged: hence he was displeased at the generous freedom of this letter: and mr. Grandison soon became less soli­citous to cultivate a friendship with a person, who, where his morals were concerned, could not bear the most friendly admonitions. They, there­fore, [Page 26] separated, and during their ab­sence dropped all correspondence with each other. The Barone, how­ever, being sometime after involv­ed by his libertine companions in great difficulties, broke his connexions with them, and afterwards accidental­ly meeting mr. Grandison at Padua, their friendship was again renewed, at the earnest desire of Jeronymo. That youth thought himself reformed, and mr. Grandison flattered himself that his reformation was real; but in a little time he met with a temptation, which he had not the resolution to resist. This was from a lady more famed for her birth, her beauty and fortune, than for her prudence and virtue. Before Jeronymo became acquainted with her, she had spread her snares for mr. Grandison, and being exasperated at his slighting the advances she had made him, she hoped now to find an oppor­tunity of being revenged.

Mr. Grandison being deeply con­cerned at the infatuation of his friend, thought himself under an obligation, both from honour and conscience, to endeavour by writing him another [Page 27] let [...]er, to recal him to the paths of virtue. He in the gentlest and most friendly terms censured his conduct, and strove to put him on his guard, by informing him his life was in dan­ger from two men of violent tempers, who, unknown to each other, consi­dered this lady as their own. Jero­nymo was so [...]eak as to let her see the contents of this letter: he even resolved to vindicate her honour, and, prompted by this revengeful woman, defied, and challenged his friend. Mr. Grandison, with a noble disdain, re­fusing to draw his sword, appealed to Jeronymo's cool reflexions. High words arose between them. Jeronymo even called him a coward: but mr. Grandison, after a violent struggle with himself, mastered his temper, and defying the unjust censures of the world, told him, that he would never meet as a foe, the man he had ever desired to consider as his friend. If ever we meet again, I assure you, [...]e added, it must be by accident; and then it will be time enough to dispute respecting the occasion of this misun­derstanding. Indeed, the next meet­ing [Page 28] was unsought for, Jeronymo rash­ly pursuing the adventure, which had occasioned this misunderstanding, one of the lady's admirers hired seve­ral B [...]esc [...]an bravoes to assassinate him. They made their attempt in the Cre­monese, where they fell upon him, in a thicket, at a distance from the road.

Happily Mr. Grandison was pas­sing by, attended by two servants, when a frighted horse, with his bridle broke and his saddle bloody, ran a­cross the way. Mr. Grandison, ima­gining that some mischief had befallen the rider, drove down the opening from which the horse came, and soon beheld a man struggling on the ground with two ruffians, one stopping his mouth, and the other stabbing him. Mr. Grandison then jumped out of the post-chaise, drew his sword, and ran towards them as fast as he was able, calling to his servants to follow him. On this the villains fled, when he heard one of them say, let us make off, we have done his business. Shock­ed at the villainy of these assassins, he pursued and came up with one of them, [Page 29] who turning upon him, he beat down the fellow's blunder [...]uss a [...] the instant [...]e presented it at him, then wounded and threw him on the ground. But observing the other ruffian turning back to help his companion, and two others suddenly appearing with their horses, he thought it more prudent to make his retreat, though he was very desirous of securing one of them. His servants, at the same instant, seeing his danger, hasted shouting towards him, when the bravoes, perhaps, ima­gining there were more still behind, seemed as glad to escape with their rescued companion, as he was to leave them. Mr. Grandison then hasted to the unhappy man. But how great was his astonishment, when he found him [...] Jeronymo, who had been pur­suing his amour in disguise!

As he gave signs of life, mr. Gran­dison immediately sent one of his ser­vants to Cremona for a surgeon: and in the mean while bound up two of his wounds, one in his breast, and the other in his shoulder but he had another in his hip, which his young deliverer found beyond his skill [...] [Page 30] manage. He however strove to stop the blood with his handkerchief; and having lifted him into his chaise, stepped in with him, and held him up in it, till he was told by one of his men, that in another part of the thicket, he had found the barone della Por­retta's servant bound and wounded, and near him his horse lying dead. At this mr. Grandison stepped out, and finding the poor fellow faint with his wounds, and unable to stand, put him into the chaise; then walked by its side, and in this manner moved slowly towards Cremona, in order to shorten the way of the expected surgeon, who soon met them.

The po [...] chaise was stopped, when the surgeon entering it, found that the Barone had fainted away. But he dressed his wounds, and proceeded with him to Cremona, where open­ing his eyes, he beheld and knew mr. Grandison; and being informed by the surgeon, that he owed his life to him, O Grandison, said he, that I had followed your advice!—that I had kept my promise with you!—How did I insult you!—Can my generous [Page 32] deliverer forgive me? If it please God to restore me, you shall be the guide of my future life.

Mr. Grandison stayed with him till he was fit to be removed from Cre­mona, where he was visited by the whole family. Never was there a fa­mily more affectionate to each other; for the suffering of one was the suf­fering of all. The Barone was ex­tremely beloved by his father, mother, and sister, for his affectionate heart, and the engaging sweetness of his manners. It is therefore easy to con­ceive how acceptable to the whole fa­mily was the important service which mr. Grandison was so happy as to render their Jeronymo. Th [...] all join­ed in blessing him, which they repeat­ed with double ardour when they knew, that he was the person whom their Jeronymo, during their intima­cy, had warmly extolled in his letters to both his brothers, and to his sister; and who now told them the occasion of their quarrel, with circumstances as much to mr. Grandison's honour, as they were disgraceful to himself. While his generous friend attended [Page 32] him by his bed's side, he frequently called for a repetition of those argu­ments, which he had before joined with his pretended friends in der [...]ding. He begged him to forgive his having treated them with levity, and him with the greatest disrespect; and entreated his family to consider his generous friend, not only as the preserver of his life, but as the restorer of his mor­als. Hence the whole family enter­tained the highest idea of mr. Grandi­son's exalted virtue and friendship; and to strengthen their good opinion, the noble youth shewed them the let­ters his friend had wrote, with the hopes of enforcing, his temporary convicti­ons, and [...]rawing him from the shame­ful pursuits, in which [...] was unhappi­ly engaged. The whole family were inspired with the utmost gratitude. The father was uneasy from his not know­ing how to acknowledge, according to the largeness of his heart, to a man in genteel circumstances, the obligations under which he had laid them. The mother, with an amiable freedom, which the Italian ladies are accustom­ed to express, desired her Clementi­ [...] [Page 33] to consider, as her fourth brother, the preserver of the third: and the Barone observed, that he should never rest, till his dear Grandison was re­warded in the manner he deserved.

CHAP. IV.

THE Barone was no longer re­moved [...] Bologna, than the whole family appeared studious to get mr. Grandison among them. The general made him promise, when his relations, as he termed them, at Bo­logna, could part with him, to favour them with his company at Naples.

In such company mr. Grandison could not fail of passing his time very agreeably. He was particularly ho­noured with the confidence of the [Page 34] marchioness, who opened her heart to him on every material occurrence that presented itself. Her lord, who is distinguished by his politeness, was never better pleased than when he found them together: and frequently, though they were not engaged in lec­tures, the lovely Clementina claimed a right to be present with her mother.

Things were in this situation, when the young count of Belvedere, who had received his education in Spain, returned to Parma; and paying a vi­sit to this noble family, saw and loved Clementina. As the count was not only a man of sense, but had a handsome person, and a great fortune; they all thought that his alliance was very desirable. The marquis highly approved of it, and the marchioness had several conversations with mr. Grandison on this subject. She thought it necessary to know his thoughts on the occasion, as the barone, unknown to him, had frequently declared, that he thought there was no other way of rewarding his merit, than by giving him a relation to the family. In the mean time, mr. Grandison, thus [Page 35] distinguished by all the persons of this noble house, and a daily witness of the innumerable excellencies of the lovely Clementina, found it impossible not to suffer his vanity to be some­times awakened, and to stifle his wishes of obtaining such a prize. But he endeavoured to check the pleasing idea, the moment he found it play a­bout his heart; for he would have thought any attempt to recommend himself to the young lady's favour, though only by his looks and assiduities, a breach of that generous trust and confidence which they all reposed in him.

Mr. Grandison now formed the resolution of retiring from Italy, and visiting some of the German courts. This he communicated to the Mar­chioness, who expressed her concern at the thoughts of his leaving them, and prevailed on him to defer his de­parture for some time; but hinted her and her lord's apprehensions of his being in love with Clementina. He convinced her, that he had behaved with the utmost honour in this parti­cular: and [...]he so fully satisfied the [Page 36] marquis, that on their daughter's ab­solutely refusing the count of Belve­dere, they de [...]ired him to talk to her in favour of that nobleman. The young lady and mr. Grandison had a conference on this subject, while the marquis and marchioness, unknown to either of them, had placed them­selves to listen to their discourse in a closet adjoining to the room, and which communicated to another room, as well as to that they were in. How­ever, they had not the least reason to be displeased with their conversation.

The time of mr. Grandison's de­parture now drawing near, and the young lady repeatedly refusing the count of Belvedere, the barone, un­known to his friend, declared in his favour. His relations objected diffi­culties with respect to his religion and his country; on which he desired they would permit his talking to him on those subjects, and discoursing with his sister on her motives for refusing the count of Belvedere; but this they would not allow. The Marchioness herself undertook to talk to her daugh­ter, and to demand of her, her rea­sons [Page 37] for disliking all the proposals that had been made her; but on her closet­ting the lovely Clementina, nothing was to be had from her but tears. A silence, that had not the least appear­ance of fullenness, had for some days, shown, that a deep melancholy had begun to take possession of her mind; and yet she appeared extremely of­fended at their attributing it to love. However, her mother informed mr. Grandison, that she could not help suspecting, that, unknown to herself, she was under the dominion of that passion, from her never appearing chearful, but when taking lessons for learning a language that was never likely to be of the least service to her. Her melancholy still encreasing, he was desired to talk with her. He did so, and it was observed, that she ge­nerally assumed a chearful air, while he was present; and though she said little, appeared pleased with every thing he said to her; but the moment he left her, she studied to find opportu­nities of being alone. Her parents, who were in the deepest affliction, consult­ed physicians, who all declared, that [Page 38] she was in love. She was taxed with it, and the utmost indulgence promis­ed her, with respect to the object of her affection, that she could wish; but still she could not bear the im­putation with patience.

On the evening before the day ap­pointed for mr. Grandison's depar­ture, this noble family made a splendid entertainment in honour of a guest, who had laid them under such extra­ordinary obligations. For they had the more readily brought themselves to approve of his leaving them, from their desire to know how it would af­fect Clementina. That lady appeared at table, and during the whole even­ing, supported her part of the conver­sation with extraordinary vivacity; and yet there appeared nothing in her looks or behaviour, that seemed the least affected. When they thanked him for the pleasure he gave the whole fa­mily, she joined her acknowledgments; and when they expressed their wishes to see him again before he returned to England, she did the same. Mr. Grandison's heart was dilated, and he was overjoyed at seeing such a hap­py [Page 39] alteration. When he took leave of them, she stood forward to receive his compliments. He offered to press her hand with his lips, but presenting her cheek to him, my brother's deliverer, said she, m [...]st not affect this distance; adding, God preserve my tutor where­ever he goes. May you never want such an agreeable friend as you have been to us! And, in English, God convert you, Chevalier!

As the barone was not able to be with them, his friend went to take his leave of him, when, throwing his arms about him, he cried, O my Grandi­son! will you go?—Blessings at­tend you! But what will become of a brother and sister, when they have lost you? She must, she shall be yours. Why will you leave us? Mr. Gran­dison was surprised; for he had never before been so particular, and answer­ed, it could not be, for there were a thousand obstacles.—All of which, returned the barone, that depend on us, I don't doubt I shall overcome. They then settled a method of car­rying on their correspondence, and parted.

[Page 40] The next morning mr. Grandison set out for Inspruck, but on his arrival at that city, was deeply afflicted at re­ceiving a letter, by which he was in­formed, that Clementina's chearful and lively behaviour had lasted no longer than the next day, and that her malady had returned with double force. She shut herself up in her cham­ber without seeming to know that her woman was in it, or making any an­swers to the questions she asked her; but setting her chair with its back to­wards her over against a closet, after a deep silence, leaned forward, and in a low voice, seemed talking to a person in the closet, crying, you say he is actually gone? Gone for ever? No, not for ever! Who, madam? said the woman. To whom, pray, do you direct your discourse?—We were all doubtless obliged to him, resumed she; so bravely to rescue my brother, and to pursue the bravoes, and, as my brother says, to put him in his own chaise, and walk on foot by its side.—Why, as you say, the as­sassins might have murdered him, or the horses might have trampled him [Page 41] under their feet. Her women then stepped into the closet, and in order to turn the course of her ideas, open­ed the door, and left it open, to try if that would divert her attention from the place; but she still talked calmly, as if to some body in it, then bursting into a faint laugh, she cried, in love I that i [...] such a silly whim, and yet I love every body better than myself. At this instant the marchioness enter­ing the room, Clementina ro [...] in haste, and shutting the closet-door, as if somebody had been hid there, threw herself at her feet, crying, my dear mamma, forgive me for all the trouble I have caused you. But I will, I [...]ust be God's child, as well as yours. I will retire into a convent.

Every thing that medicine could do, was now tried. But her confessor, though an honest and worthy man, had filled her mind with fears and ter­rors. He observed the favour mr. Grandison was in with the whole fa­mily, and dreading lest his influence might have such an effect, as to with­draw this lady from the bosom of the church, had raised such a conflict in her [Page 42] heart, between her piety, which was ardent and sincere, and her gratitude and sensibility, as her tender frame was unable to bear.

In the city of Florence is a family of distinguished rank and honour, the ladies of which have a female friend who lives with them, named Beau­mont, who in the early part of life, was defrauded of her fortune by an uncle. She is an English protestant, and is greatly esteemed for her genius, and the goodness of her heart. These ladies with this their companion, were one day visiting at marchese della Porretta's, when the distressed mother told them the mournful tale; and they thinking nothing that could be effect­ed by human prudence impossible to mrs. Beaumont, desired that the young lady might be entrusted to her care at their house in Florence. To this they immediately agreed, and they took her with them. Mrs. Beaumont soon engaged the unhappy Clementi­na's affections, and by her very artful management, found means to prevail on her to reveal the cause of her me­lancholy, and that it arose from her [Page 43] regard for mr. Grandison. Her hopes that his absence would restore her tranquillity, had made her behave with such steadiness at his departure; but she was not able to maintain so great a part; yet she professed, that she would never marry one who by his religion was an enemy to the faith, in which she had never wavered; and which, she observed, she would never change, were an earthly [...] to be placed on the head of th [...] [...]an she loved, to be the reward.

Upon this, mrs. Beaumont wrote an affecting letter to the marchioness, in which she gave her a particular ac­count of this conversation: and that lady, in return, sent her an answer, filled with the warmest expressions of gratitude, inclosing in it a letter to her daughter, wherein she endeavoured to give her all the consolation possible, inviting her and her amiable friend to Bologna, and promising, in the name of her father and brothers, a most in­dulgent welcome, with the gratifica­tion of all her wishes. The lady Cle­mentina became much easier and more composed, on receiving these [Page 44] assurances; and returned to Bologna, with a more serene and settled min [...] than she enjoyed at her leaving that city.

CHAP. V.

THE whole family were desired to assemble upon this occasion, when, by common consent, it was agreed, that mr. Grandison should be sent for. That gentleman was then at [...]: and Jeronymo, in his letter, congratulated him on his having it now in his power to reward him; hinting in general that the conditions would be such as he could not fail of think­ing highly to his advantage. This news greatly affected mr. Grandison; for, from his knowledge of the lady and the whole family, he was afraid the articles of residence and religion would not be easily compromised; on which account he summoned up all his pru­dence to keep alive his fears and sus­pend every flattering hope.

[Page 45] He instantly returned to Bologna, where, on his arrival, he was received with all the marks of friendship and esteem by the marquis and the bishop. The barone, who still kept his chamber, embracing him, said, now is the affair I have so long had in view, determined. O chevalier, you'll be a happy man. Clementina will be yours, and you will be Clementina's. Now do I indeed embrace my brother—But I won't detain you; haste to the happy girl, who is with her mother; and both are ready to welcome you. Mr. Grandison was then conducted into the marchioness's drawing room, where he found that lady richly dress­ed, with the lovely Clementina also elegantly dressed, and standing by her chair; while her natural modesty, heightened by a glowing conscious­ness that seemed to arise from the oc­casion, gave her advantages superior to her richest jewels. The marchio­ness behaved to him with great ten­derness and respect, apologized for her daughter's silence and confusion; and on her returning, congratulated him on the happiness intended him, ob­serving [Page 46] that she would leave particular subjects to be discoursed of between the bishop and him, adding that as much should be done for Clementina, as if she had married the man they wished her to have, when they ima­gined her affections entirely disen­gaged. Mr. Grandison applauded her goodness, and she added, that she did not doubt of his [...]oving Clementina more than any other lady. He return­ed, that [...]he had never seen one he could have loved with such tenderness, had he not put a restraint upon him­self, from the high notions they enter­tained of their rank and quality, from the difference of religion; and from the confidence the family reposed in him. He therefore assured the mar­chioness, that not having presumed to encourage hopes of the happiness that now seemed to await him, he could hardly yet flatter himself that he should enjoy such felicity. She answered, that he deserved it all. He knew the value they had for him. Clementina's regard was founded on virtue: and she did not doubt, but all that depend­ed on him would, as well from gene­rosity [Page 47] as gratitude, be complied with. The marquis, who entered soon after, behaved with the same indulgence, letting him know, that his son the bishop, would discourse with him up­on terms. A great fortune, besides a noble estate bequeathed her by her two grand-fathers, was proposed, and his father was to be invited over to grace their nuptials.

The bishop at last made the dreaded proposals, with which, neither [...] conscience, nor his love for his coun­try would suffer him to comply. He was to make a formal renunciation of his religion, and to settle in Italy, and only be allowed once in two or three years to go to England, if he pleased, for two or three months; and, if their daughter should desire it, she might, once in her life, be carried thither on a visit of curiosity, and stay there the time they should limit. The bishop, who was amazed at his scruples, in va [...] endeavoured to convince him of what he called his errors; for he could not change his religion without convicti­on. He even reproached him with ob­stinacy, ingratitude, and cruelty. The [Page 48] general, who was now at Bologna, raved, threatened, and treated him with contempt, while the marquis be­gan to consider him as unworthy of the honour designed him. In what distress was mr. Grandison involved, in being thus obliged to deny himself the dear­est wish of his heart, and to disap­point the warm expectations of those who had a sincere value for him! But when his dear Jeronymo intreated his compliance—when the tender mother intreated him to have pity on her heart, and her poor child's head—and when the gentle, the lovely Clemen­tina urged him for his soul's sake, to embrace the doctrines of her holy mo­ther the church, how was his mind torn by the contending passions, which tortured his breast? But he was fully satisfied with his own faith, and had insuperable objections to that which they desired him to embrace; and, if he complied, his conscience and his country were to be the sacrifice. Yet he studied for a compromise. Clemen­tina was very dear to him, and he then beheld graces in her, which he had hitherto struggled to behold with in­difference. [Page 49] He proposed to live one year in Italy, and one in England by turns, if their dear Clementina would consent to live with him there; if not, he proposed to pass only three months in every year in his native country. He offered to leave her entirely at her liberty in the article of religion; and, in case of children by the marriage, the daughters to be educated by her, and the sons by him; a condition, to which the pope himself, it was presu­med, would not refuse his sanction. To this, the unhappy Clementina would have consented, and earnestly endeavoured to procure the consent of her friends. But no arguments could prevail on them to allow their daugh­ter to marry a protestant. This deter­mination was followed by the most distressful scenes; the mother, indeed, seemed in a manner neutral; and the barone remained still firm in mr. Gran­dison's interest; but the marquis, the general, the bishop, and the whole Urbino branch of the family, were im­movable. The general treated him even with an insolent arrogance; and imagining that mr. Grandison had used [Page 50] some art to engage his sister's affections, pretended to have a right to call him to account for it. But notwithstanding mr. Grandison's being deeply distress­ed, he answered the general's passion­ate speeches with spirit; but let him know, that nothing should make him attempt the life of the brother of his friend. The rigour of their behaviour was now extended even to the unhap­py Clementina: and mr. Grandison in vain recommended their treating her with indulgence. He was desired to depart from Bologna; and Clemen­tina was not permitted to see him, though she begged on her knees to have a parting interview. At hearing of his being gone, her grief moved every one to pity, and this subsided into fits, the deepest melancholy and silence.

CHAP. VI.

MR. Grandison no sooner left Italy than he proceeded to Paris, to wait there for orders from [Page 51] his father, to return to his native coun­try. While he was in France, he paid a visit to mr. Danby, an eminent mer­chant of great integrity, to whom his father remitted money for his use. With this gentleman, he had been be­fore acquainted: and having now spent two days with him in the city, he ac­companied him to a little lone house in the Cambresis, which that gentle­man used to term his dormitory. Mr. Grandison had only one servant with him, who lay in a little room over the stable, with a man servant of mr. Danby's, there being conveniencies in the house only for mr. Danby, a friend and two women servants. About midnight, mr. Grandison was alarmed by hearing a noise at the window of mr. Danby's room, when, instantly slip­ping on his cloaths, and drawing his sword, he ran thither, just as a villain with a large knife in his hand, had seized mr. Danby's throat, who till then was sound asleep. The skin of his neck, and one of his hands, which he had lifted up to defend himself, were slightly wounded, when Mr. Grandi­son run the ruffian into the shoulder [Page 52] with his sword; and at the same mo­ment threw him with violence from the bed against the door; on which he roared out, that he was a dead man. By that time, a second fellow, who had got up to the window, was half in, when, calling to a third below, to haste up after him, mr. Grandison ran to the second fellow, who then fired a pistol, but happily missed him; and feeling the point of the sword in his arm, threw himself, with a little of mr. Grandison's help, upon the third ruffian, who was mounting the ladder, and knocked him off; after which both made their escape. Mean while the assassin within had fainted away, and the two maids let in mr. Grandi­son's and mr. Danby's servants, who had been alarmed by the screams of the women from their window, and the report of the pistol. The two foot­men, having, by Mr. Grandison's order, bound up the ruffian's shoulder, and carried him into the hall, he came to himself and offered to make a full confession; and being carried before a magistrate, laid open the whole vil­lainy.

[Page 53] Mr. Danby had a brother of very abandoned principles, to whom he had frequently given large sums, which he had squandered away in his debauche­ries. He had also settled a thousand guineas on each of the children of his brother, who had the folly and impu­dence to make a demand of the same sum, pleading that he had as much right to it as they; and enraged at his meeting with a refusal, formed a de­sign to get possession of his whole fortune. For, mr. Danby being a bache­lor, and being known to have an aver­sion to the thoughts of making his will, this wretch had hired these ruffians to murder him; and that the fact might have the appearance of being done by robbers, the house was to have been plundered, as soon as the horrid fact was perpetrated. The villains were each to receive a thousand crowns on this unnatural monster's getting possessi­on of his brother's fortune; and they had fifty crowns a-piece [...] them in hand. Their base employ or w [...]ed the event at Calais; and being [...] in­formed of what had happiness▪ passed over to Dover.

[Page 54] During the time that mr. Grandison was sacrificing the dearest wishes of his heart to his religion, and his love of his country, and was exposed to dan­gers that called forth all his courage, his father was indulging his love of pleasure. He placed over his daughters as governess, the widow of one of his companions, named Oldham, whose fortune had not held out as sir Tho­mas's had done. This lady had fine qualities, was well descended, hand­some, and an economist: But she soon became so unhappily sensible of sir Thomas's favours and presents, that in a little more than a twelve-month, she was obliged to come up to town, where she lay in. The eldest of the young ladies being at that time about nineteen, and the [...] youngest sixteen years old, they had such spirit as to oppose this lady's return to her office; and undertook to manage every thing themselves at their capital feat in Hampshire. But sir Thomas having another seat in Essex, carried mrs. Oldham thither; and for some time every body apprehended that they were married. Sir Thomas was highly dis­pleased [Page 55] at his daughters for opposing the return of their governess. And he had another mistress in town, who had a taste for all its gaieties.

The young ladies were now treated with great severity by sir Thomas: and his son had not been long abroad, when they were forbid to correspond with him, lest his [...]llies should be the subject of their correspondence: and he also ordered their brother not to write to them. This prohibition gave these ladies the most sensible concern, as they dreaded its laying a foundation for their being treated with indiffer­ence by their brother, on whom, as their mother had foretold, they were likely, if he survived their father, to have too great a dependence. But though sir Thomas shewed not the least tenderness for his daughters, he, in all companies gloried in his son, who he observed, was all that was dutiful, brave, worthy and pious; alleging to his intimate friends, that the reason of his permitting his being so long absent, was, that his son's morals and his own were so different, that he should be ashamed of his superiority; but, that [Page 56] he intended to alter his course of life, and then he would send for him. In the mean while, mrs. Farnboro [...]gh, the woman he lived with, when in town, being seized with the small-pox, died; on which sir Thomas was so much affected, that he left the town; and in pursuance of his temporary good resolutions, lived with his daugh­ters, and talked of [...]ending for his son; and for some months behaved like a man of sense and understanding.

About the time of mrs. Farnbo­ [...]ough's being taken ill, Lord L—returning from his travels, brought sir Thomas some presents from his son, who took all opportunities to send him curiosities, some of which were of confiderable value, and served to shew both his duty and economy. Sir Tho­mas appeared fond of lord L. and on his retiring to Grandison Hall, after mrs. Farnborough's death, gave him an invitation to visit him there. Hence that nobleman attended him at the hall, where he fell in love with the eldest of the young ladies, to whom he revealed his passion. She referred her­self wholly to her father: but though [Page 57] this match would have been highly to her advantage, sir Thomas absolutely refused his consent.

At length, sir Thomas resolved to regulate his affairs, preparatory to the leave he intended to give his son to re­turn home. But he knew not what to do with mrs. Oldham, and two chil­dren he had by her. He made no doubt of his son's having heard of his guilty commerce with her: but he did not choose that he should find her living with him as a mistress, in one of the family seats. He was also unwilling [...]o use her unhandsomely, and thought himself obliged to provide for the children he had by her.

While he was thus contriving how to make the best appearance before his son, whose character for virtue and prudence, made him half afraid of him, he received a proposal of marriage for the young gentleman from one of the first men in the king­dom, whose daughter accompanying her brother and his lady in a tour to France and Italy, fell in love with mr. Grandison at Florence. Sir Thomas had several meetings on this subject, [Page 58] both with the brother and the earl, his father, and was so fond of bring­ing it to bear, that he had thoughts of reserving to himself an annuity, and, in favour of this match, making over the whole estate to his son; and actually sent him this proposal. But mr. Grandison in his answer, observ­ed, that if this arose from his genero­sity, affection, and indulgence, he had so often experienced, he could not [...]ear it; but if it proceeded from pro­posals made to him, God forbid; said he, that I should give your name to a woman, however illustrious in her descent, and however wealthy, whose friends could offer such conditions to my father. On this answer, sir Tho­mas resolved to suspend the treaty of marriage till his son's arrival.

While sir Thomas was planning fu­ture schemes of life, and had actual­ly begun to treat with mrs. Oldham, who, desiring to reform her conduct, agreed to ret [...]re at the first word; he was seized with a violent fever, which, in three days, deprived him of the use of his reason. He was at this time with mrs. Oldham at his seat in Essex: [Page 59] and the physician [...] soon giving her no hopes of his recovery, she wrote to acquaint the two ladies with his dan­ger, who, a few days after, dispatch­ed a letter to their brother, who was waiting at Paris, expecting to receive permission from his father to return home. On the eleventh day of his ill­ness, sir Thomas coming a little to himself, knew his daughters, and wept over them. He then wished he had been kinder to them. He was sensible of his danger, and several times lifted up his feeble hands and dying eyes, repeating, God is just. I have been very wicked!—Repentance! repent­ance! how hard a task! and mrs. Oldham entering the room, Oh mrs. Oldham, what is the world now? What would I give—But repent! re­pent! repent! Put your good resolu­tions in practice, le [...]t I have more souls to answer for than my own. Soon after, his delirium returned, and he expired.

CHAP. VII.

THE affairs of the family were in this situation when Sir Charles arrived. He returned no answer to his sister's letters, but instantly set out for Calais, embarked, and the same day in which he landed, arrived at his late father's house in St. James's square. How awful to the sisters, after an absence of eight or nine years, must be the first appearance of a bro­ther, on whom their fortunes entirely depended, and to whom they had been accused by their father, now so lately departed, of want of duty! He alighted from his post-chaise at the door, and his two sisters met him in the hall. They remembered the grace­ful youth of seventeen, who [...]ad left them, with his fine curling auburn locks waving on his shoulders, intel­ligence sparkling in his fine eyes, and his lively features sweetened by good humour; and, forgetting the woman­ly [Page 61] beauties into which their own fea­tures were ripened, seemed not to ex­pect that manly stature and air, and that equal vivacity and intrepidity, with a noble countenance, that then appeared more than usually solemn, from his having in his thoughts an unburied and beloved father. O my brother! said Caroline, meeting him with open arms, but shrinking from his embrace, may I say my brother? and was just fainting. He clasped her, and supported her in his arms, Char­lotte, the youngest, affected at his pre­fence, and surprized at her sister's emo­tion, ran back into the room they had left, and threw herself upon a settee. Her brother followed her, soothing miss Caroline, with his arm round her waist, and with eyes of expecta­tion, cried, my Charlotte! holding out his inviting hand, and hasting to­wards the settee. She then found her feet, and throwing her arms about his neck, he folded both of his sisters to his bosom, crying, receive, my dear­est sisters, receive your brother, your friend. Assure yourselves of my un­abated love. That assurance, they [Page 62] cried, was balm to their hearts; and when each was seated, he sitting over against them, looked first at one, then on the other; and taking each by the hand, charming women! said he, how I admire my sisters! I don't doubt, that you have minds answerable to your persons. What pleasure, what pride shall I take in my sisters! My dear Charlotte! said miss Caro­line, taking her sister's other hand, has not our brother all the brother in his face? His goodness only looks stronger and more perfect. What was I afraid of? My heart also sunk; I knew not why, said Charlotte. But we feared—indeed, sir, we both fear­ed—O my brother! tears trickling down the cheeks of each—We did not mean to be undutiful—Love your brother, my dear sisters, he re­turned, as he will endeavour to de­serve your love: my mother's daugh­ters could not be undutiful—mistake only!—unhappy misapprehension! He then pressed the hands of each with his lips, arose, went to the win­dow, and wiped his eyes—Then turning towards them, added, permit [Page 63] me, my dear sisters, to retire for a moment, my father demands this tri­bute. They waited on him to his a­partment with silent respect. No cere­mony, I hope, my Caroline, my Char­lotte, he resumed, we were true sisters and brother a few years ago: see your Charles as you saw him then; and don't let absence, which has increased my love, lessen yours. Each sister then took a hand, and would have kissed it. But he clasped his arms about them both, and saluted them. He cast his eyes on his father's and mo­ther's pictures, with some emotion; then on them, and again saluting each of them, they withdrew with tears of joy trickling down their cheeks.

Sir Charles in half an hour rejoin­ed them in another dress, and again saluted them with an air of tenderness that banished fear, and left room for nothing but love. Soon after their cousin Grandison came in: and after the first compliments, the ladies retir­ing, that gentleman touched upon the circumstances of sir Thomas's illness, and death; inveighing against mrs. Oldham, telling sir Charles what they [Page 64] had done, and exclaiming against her for the state she had lived in, and her unwillingness to resign the care of sir Thomas, in his illness, to his daugh­ters. He then asked sir Charles, if he was not pleased with what they had done as to that vile woman? But he only observed, that he believed every thing was designed for the best. Mr. Grandison then ridiculed her grief and mortification at being obliged to leave the house, where she had so long reigned lady paramount. Sir Charles asked, if they had found a will? And was answered, that they looked in every probable place▪ but found none. I intend, said sir Charles, to inter the venerable remains with those of my mother, which I know was his desire. An elegant, but not sumptuous monu­ment shall be erected to the memory of both, with a modest inscription, that shall be rather a matter of instruc­tion to the living than a panegyric on the deceased. The funeral shall be decent, but not ostentatious: and the difference of the expence shall be pri­vately applied to assist distressed house­keepers, or some of my father's poor [Page 65] tenants, who have large families, and have endeavoured, by their industry, to maintain them. And this was [...]n after carried into execution.

The solemnity was no sooner over, than sir Charles, leaving every thing as he found it, at Grandison-hall, came to town, and in the presence of his sisters, broke the seals they had affixed to the cabinets and escrutores in the house there; and having made memorandums of the contents of many papers, went with his sisters to the house in Essex, and when there, told them it was necessary for Mrs. Old­ham, who had lodgings at a farm­house in the neighbourhood, to be present at breaking the seals, as she had affixed her's; and accordingly sent for her. She came with fear and trembling, when sir Charles, not ex­pecting her so soon, was in his stable, with the groom and coachman, look­ing at his horses, which were some of the finest hunters and racers in Eng­land. She was shown, by mistake, into the room where the two ladies were; and at seeing them was in great confusion, wept, curte [...]ied; and, on miss [Page 66] Caroline's blaming her maid for bring­ing her to them, begged pardon, and was withdrawing, but stopped on that lady's saying, my brother, not we, sent for you, I assure you, madam. He says, it is necessary, as you thought fit to put your seal with ours, that you should be present at the breaking them. Prepare yourself to see him: You seem mighty unfit—no wonder! In­deed I am unfit, very unfit, said the poor woman: Let me, ladies, bespeak your generosity; a little of your pity; a little of your countenance; I am indeed an unhappy woman! And so you deserve to be, said Miss Caroline. I am sure we are the sufferers. And so you have put yourself into mourn­ing, madam! Pretty deep too! Indeed ladies, said mrs. Oldham, I am a real mourner. Here, ladies, are the keys of the stores, of the confectionary, and of the wine-vault. I thought it best [...]o keep them, till I could deliver them to your or sir Charles's order. I have not, ladies, been a bad manager, con­sidered as a house-keeper; all I have in the world is under the seals. I am your's and your [...] [Page 67] You'll soon know, madam, said miss Charlotte, what you have to trust to from him.

Sir Charles entered, and saw her standing pale and trembling near the door. He bowed to her. Mrs. Old­ham, I presume, said he—pray, ma­dam, be seated: I sent to you, that you might see the seals broken—pray, madam, sit down, added he, taking her hand, and leading her to a chair not far distant from his sisters, and then sitting in one between them and her. Pray, madam, compose yourself, added he, with pity in his eyes; and and then turned to his sisters, to allow her time to recover herself. She was relieved by a flood of tears, and tried to suppress her audible sobs, which he would not seem to hear. Her emo­tions then attracting the e [...]es of his sisters, he took them off by asking them something about a picture that hung on the other side of the room. Then drawing his chair nearer to the unhap­py woman, and again taking her trem­bling hand, said, I am not a stranger, mrs. Oldham, to your melancholy sto­ry. Don't be discomposed. See in [Page 68] me a friend ready to thank you for art your past good offices, and to forget all mistaken ones. This was more than she could bear; she threw herself at his feet, when raising her to her chair, he added, poor mr. Oldham was unhappily careless, yet I have been told he loved you, and that you merited his love. Your misfortunes threw you into the knowledge of our family. You have been a faithful manager of the affairs of this house. By written evidences I can justify you: evidences that I am sure none here will dispute. Mr. Grandison, who is a good natured man, but a li [...]le hasty, has told me, that he treated you with unkindness. He thought you wrong for insisting to put your seal; but he was mistaken, you did right. O brother! O brother! said both the ladies at once, half in admi­ration, though half vexed. Bear with me, my sisters, said he, we have all something to be forgiven for. They knew not but they might be concern­ed in the admonition from what their father had written of them. He then mentioned chocolate being brought in, [Page 69] and being desirous of relieving mrs. Oldham by some little employment, desired her to be so obliging to see it made.

She had no sooner left the room, than, addressing himself to the ladies, my dear sisters, said he, let me, on this occasion, desire you to think fa­vourably of me. I don't consider this poor woman on the foot of her own merits with respect to us: The memory of our father is concerned. She is intitled to justice, for its own sake; to generosity, for ours; to kind­ness, for my father's. In several of his letters to me, he praises mrs. Old­ham's economy; and he had a right to do what he would with his own fortune. It was not ours till now. Whatever he has left us, he might have lessened. The economy is all that concerns us in the point of inte­rest, and that is in her favour. He might have given mrs. Oldham a title to a name that would have command­ed our respect, if not our reverence. You have enlarged minds; and are the daughters of the most charitable, the most forgiving of women; and I [Page 70] was willing to judge of her behaviour, before I recommended her to your hu­manity. Is she not humbled enough? From my soul, I pity her. She loved my father, and I don't doubt mourns for him in secret; yet does not dare to plead her love. I would now consi­der her only as one who has executed a principal office in this house; and it will become us to behave to her in such a manner, as to make the world think we consider her only in that light.

When they had drank chocolate, he told mrs. Oldham, he was ready to attend her, and desired his sisters to give them their company. On their coming to the chamber in which sir Thomas died, mrs. Oldham turned [...]ale, and begged to wait in the ad­joining drawing-room. Poor woman, cried he, how unhappily is she circum­stanced! She dares not, before us, shew the tenderness which is the glory of her sex, and of human na­ture! On opening one of the cabinets in that chamber, they found a beauti­ful little casket with a paper wa [...]ered upon it, on which was written, My [...]ife's jewels. Sir Charles asking his [Page 71] sisters, if they had not received their mother's jewels, and they answering, that their father had [...] they should be theirs on their mariage; he imme­diately presented them this casket, which they retired to open, while their brother was taking minutes of papers. Besides the jewels, they found in it three purses, in two of which were a considerable number of old broad pieces, with some bank notes and India bonds. The third parcel was thus labelled, For my beloved son: In acknowledgment of his duty to his father and me, from infancy to this hour; of his love to his sisters; of the generosity of his temper: of his love of truth, and his modesty, courage, bene­volence, steadiness of mind, docility and other great and amiable qualities, by which he gives a moral assurance of his [...]ing a good man. God grant it. Amen.

This purse the ladies immediately carried to their brother, when, hav [...]ng read the label, excellent woman, said he, being dead, she yet speaks; may her pious prayer be answered!

Sir Charles and his sisters having [Page 72] examined every other place in this apartment, he followed mrs. Oldham to her's; where [...]ewing him the clo­set in which was contained all she was worth, she complained of mr. Gran­dison's refusing to let her take out of it 50l. He told her, she might assure herself of justice, and breaking the seal, desired her to produce what she thought proper for him to take ac­count of. He was obliged to check the curiosity of his sisters, who would fain have examined her drawers. She shewed him the cabinet, in which was contained all the money, notes, and securities she had honestly saved. Miss Caroline asked to what amount? No matter, sister, said sir Charles. You hear mrs. Oldham says, they are ho­nestly saved. I dare say my father's bounty enabled his meanest servants, to save money. I would [...] keep one that I thought did not. I make no comparison. Mrs. Oldham, you are a gentlewoman. I believe, said mrs. Oldham, looking afraid of the censures of the ladies, there is near 1200l. They appeared surprised at the largeness of the sum, and observ­ed [Page 73] that they should of [...] have been glad of having as many [...]ings be­tween them. Sir Charles [...]ked what occasion had they for more than cur­rent money? but added, that now they had a claim to independency, he hoped, either of their stores would exceed that sum. Mrs. Oldham the [...] trembling, said, in this private drawer are some presents—I disclaim them: If you'll believe me, ladies, I never wished for them, offering to pull out the drawer. Forbear, mrs. Oldham, said sir Charles, both the presents and money are yours: Never will I either disparage or diminish my father's boun­ty. He had a right to do as he pleased. Had he made a will, would they not have been yours?—If you, my sisters, if you, mrs. Oldham. can tell me any thing he but intended to do for any of his people, I will execute his inten­tion with the same exactness as if he had inserted it in a will. Shall we do nothing [...] legal justice?—The law was not made for a man of con­science.

When sir Charles had examined and taken minutes of every thing in [Page 74] this hous [...] [...] delivered to mrs. Old­ham the [...] of her apartment, order­ing the house-keeper to assist her in the removal of her effects when she pleased; and to allow her to come and go at all times with the same freedom and civility, as if she had never left the house. Then, addressing himself to his sisters, he said, you may consi­der the justice I am willing to do to persons who can claim only justice from me, as an earnest that I will do no more than justice for you. You should have been the first to have found the fruits of my love, had I not fear­ed that prudence would have narrow­ed my intentions. I am sorry, my dear sisters, for the sake of your spi­rits, that you are left in my power. The best of [...]omen always feared that it would be so; but as soon as I can, you shall be absolutely inde­pendent on your brother. Both Ca­lonine and Charlotte expressed their gratitude by their tears, telling him, that their being in the power of such a brother was their highest felicity.

As sir Charles found that his father had left his affairs embarrassed, he dis­posed [Page 75] of his hunters, [...] and dogs, took a survey of the timber upon his estate, and felled what would have been worse for standing; but for the sake of posterity, planted an oakling for every oak he [...] down.

Two or three months after sir Charles's arrival in England, lord L. came to town from Scotland, and paid him his first visit; when, his lordship mentioning his love for miss Caroline, and she acknowledging her regard for him, he introduced him to her, and joining their hands, held them be­tween both his; saying, with pleasure do I join hands, where such worthy hearts are united. From this time, my lord, do me the honour to look upon me as your brother. My father was a little embarrassed in his affa [...]rs, and was perhaps loth they should ear­ly claim another protection; but if he had lived to make himself easy, he would doubtless have made them hap­py. He has left that duty upon me, and I will perform it. Miss Caro­line's joy rendered her unable to speak, and my lord was extremely affected. Miss Charlotte was moved with this [Page 76] see [...]e, and [...]ing up her hands and eyes, prayed, that God would make his power as large as his heart. And has not my Charlotte, said he, turn­ing towards her, some happy man whom she can distinguish by her love? You, my sisters, are equally dear to me. Come, Charlotte, make me your considant; and your inclinations shall direct my choice.

Before the marriage, sir Charles gave his sister a paper sealed up. Re­ceive this, my Caroline, said, he, as from your father's bounty, in com­pliance with what your mother, had she lived, would have wished. When you oblige lord L—with one hand, make him this present with the other; and thus intitle yourself to all the gra­titude with which his worthy heart will overflow. I have only done my duty, in promising an article of the will I have made in my own mind for my father. He then saluted her, and withdrew before she broke the seal; and when she did, she found it con­tained bank notes for 10,000l. She threw herself into a chair, and was unable to rise; but recovering herself, [Page 77] she hurried out to find her brother, and was told he was in his sister's a­partment. She ran thither, and found Charlotte was in tears, sir Charles having just left her. What ails my Charlotte? said she. O Caroline, cried the other, this brother! there is no bearing his generous goodness. See that deed! She took it up, and finding it was for the same sum he had given her, and to carry interest, they congratulated and wept over each o­ther, as if distressed. Caroline found out her brother; but when she ap­proached him, could only express her gratitude by lifting up her hands and eyes. He had no sooner raised and seated her, than the equally grateful Charlotte entered, when placing her next her sister, and drawing a chair for himself, he took the hand of each, and then said, my dear sisters, you are too sensible of these instances of my brotherly love. It has pleased God to deprive us of our father and mother, and we must supply the [...]loss to each other. Consider me as an executor of a will, that ought to have been made, and perhaps would, had there been [Page 78] time. My circumstances are more as­sluent than I expected; and I could not do less than I have done. You don't know how much you'll oblige me if you never say another word up­on this subject. Soon after this, Ca­roline was married to lord L—, who carried her down with him to Scot­land, where she was greatly admired and esteemed by all his relations.

CHAP. VIII.

WE shall now leave sir Charles, to bring the reader acquainted with an accomplished young lady, who will engage his attention in the following part of this work. Miss Harriot By­ron had united in her face the most enchanting beauty, grace, and expres­sion; she had a heart equally pure and open, and a noble mind, legible [...] her lovely and expressive countena [...]. This lady lived at Selby-house, in Northamptonshire, and was the de­light, the pride of her relations, and [Page 79] the admiration of all who ever saw or conversed with her. She was brought to London by her aunt Reeves; and here, as well as in the country, [...] several admirers, among whom [...] as sir Hargrave Pollexsen, a gay, proud, and conceited fop, with a handsome person, and an estate of 8000l [...] a year. The baronet had been accidentally in her company when she enlivened the conversation with the most agreeable sallies of wit; and afterwards, waited upon her at mrs. Reeves's, and made an open declaration of his passion in the presence of her uncle and aunt; on which miss Harriet frankly told him, she thanked him for his good opinion, but could not encourage his addresses. He appeared amazed at this declaration, and repeating, cannot en­courage my addresses! said, he had been assured her affections were not engaged; but that surely it must [...]e a mistake. She desired to know if it was a necessary consequence▪ that the wo­ [...] must be engaged, who could not [...] the addresses of sir Hargrave Pollex [...]n? Why, madam, as to that, said he, I don't know what to say; [Page 80] but to, a man of my fortune, and I hope not absolutely disagreeable, ei­ther in person or temper, of some [...] in life.—What, madam, if you [...] [...]uch in earnest as you pretend, can be your objection? We can't said she, all like the same person. Wo­men are said to be very capricious, and, perhaps, I am so. But there is a something, we can't always say what, that attracts or disgnsts us. Disgusts! madam,—Disgusts! Miss Byron, [...]ied he. I speak in general, sir, she returned; I dare say nineteen women out of twenty, would think themselves [...]avoured by the addresses of sir Har­grave Pollexfen. You, sir, may have more merit, perhaps than the man I may happen to like better; but pardon me, sir, you don't hit my fancy. If pardon depends upon my breath, cried he, let me die if I do!—Not [...]it your fancy, madam, looking upon himself all round, not [...]it your fancy, madam! In short, the ba [...]one [...], pro­voked at the thought of her reject [...] so accomplished a person as him [...], behaved with great insolence, charged her with pride, and ingratitude, and [Page 81] cruelty; when miss Byron, being un­willing to stay to be insulted, begged his excuse, and hastily withdrew.

Sir Hargrave soon after paid her another visit, and having apologized for his former behaviour, made ve­hement professions of love, offered to make her large settlements, and told her, that she should prescribe to him in every thing. To which she an­swered as before; but on his insisting upon knowing her reasons for refu­sing him, she frankly told him, it [...] with some reluctance that she owned her not having that opinion of his mo­rals, that she must have of those of the man, on whom she must build her hopes of present happiness, and, on whose guidance, entrust her future. Sir Hargrave stormed, repeating, my morals, madam! You have no opinion of my morals, madam! and then shew­ing several men [...]cing airs, abruptly departed.

As this young lady had never be­fore been in Lo [...] ▪ lady Betty Williams, a near [...]lation to mr. Reeves, insisted on miss Byron's ac­companying [Page 82] her to a ball at the ope­ra-house in the Hay-market.

They stayed till about two in the morning, when mr. Reeves conduct­ed her to her chair, and saw her in it, before he attended his wife unto hers; but observed, that neither the chair nor the chairmen were those that brought her; on which he asked the reason of it, and was told by her servant, who had been hired only a few days before, that the chairmen had been [...]veigled away to drink, and that after having waited two hours for them, he had hired a chair to sup­ply their place.

The chair moved off with her ser­vant carrving his lighted flambeau be­fore it. The chairmen had not gone a great way, when calling out, they stopped, and her servant asked her commands. Where am I, William? said she. Just at home, madam, he answered, and on her observing, that they must have come a round-about way, told her, they had done so on purpose to avoid the crowd of coach­es and chairs. They then proceeded forwards; but soon after, in draw­ing [Page 83] the curtains, she found herself in the open fields, and presently after the lights put out; on which she pier­ced the air with her cries, till her strength was exhausted. She was at last taken out in fits, and on a bed with three women about her; one at her head holding a bottle to her nose, which was sore with hartshorn, and the room was filled with the strong smell of burnt feathers. Where am I? Who are you, madam, she cried. No harm is intended you, said the eldest of them; for you are to be made one of the happiest women up­on earth. We would not be concern­ed in a bad action. I hope not, I hope not, she returned. You seem to be a mother, these young gentlewomen, I presume, are your daughters. Save me from ruin, I beseech you, madam—Save me from ruin as you would these your daughters. This must be the vile contrivance of sir Hargrave Pollexfen. Is it not? Is it not? Tell me, I beg you to tell me.

Miss Byron then rising, sat on the side of the bed; when sir Hargrave instantly entered. She screamed out, [Page 84] and he threw himself at her feet; but finding that the women could hardly keep her out of a fit, retired. On her reviving, she begged and offered re­wards to induce them to facilitate her escape: but she had scarce began to speak before sir Hargrave returned, and haughtily bade her not needlessly terrify herself, ordering the women to withdraw. As they went out, she rushed forward, and followed the fore­most of the daughters into the parlour, and then sinking on her knees, clasp­ed her arms about her, crying, O save me! Save me! Sir Hargrave fol­lowing them, miss Byron kn [...]led to him, crying, if you have any compassion, let me now, I beseech you, sir, experience your mercy. The women again walked out, and he an­swered, I have entreated you, ma­dam, and on my knees too, to show me mercy, but you would shew me none. Kneel if you will, the tables are now turned. Barbarous man! said she, rising from her knees; but her spirits immediately subsiding, she added, don't be cruel, sir Hargrave, I beseech you; I never was cruel to [Page 85] any body. You know I was civil to you. Yes, yes, and very determined, he replied. You called me no names; and I call you none. Sweet creature, added he, your very terror is beauti­ful! I can enjoy your terror, ma­dam! Then offering to kiss her, she turned aside her head, on which [...]e added, I don't hit your fancy, ma­dam! You don't like my morals, ma­dam! Are these, sir Hargrave, said she, the means you take to convince me, that I ought to like them? Well, madam, he returned, you shall meet with the mercy in me, you would not show. Be mine, madam, I offer you my honest ha [...]d; consent to be lady Pollexfen.—No punishment, I hope! or take the consequence. Take my life, sir, said she; but my hand and my heart are my own. They never shall be separa [...]ed. You can't fly me, madam, returned he; you are securely mine; and mine shall be still more securely. Don't provoke me, dont make me desperate. Then throwing his arms about her, she was terrified, and cried out, when instant­ly entered one of the daughters, cry­ing, [Page 86] good sir! Did not you say you would be honourable? The mother followed her in, saying, sir! sir! in my house—What a plague, cried he, do you come in for; I thought you knew your own sex better, than to mind a woman's squalling▪ Dear, blessed, blessed woman, cried the la­dy, frantic with mingled terror and joy, to find herself in better hands than she expected; protect me! save me! Indeed I have not deserved this treacherous treatment. Nay, dear la­dy, said the woman, if sir Hargrave will make you his true and lawful wife, there can be no harm done, surely. Then turning to him, she told him the gentleman was waiting.

At this instant entered a horrid looking clergyman; he was a tall, big-boned, splay-footed man, in a shabby gown, a wig equally shabby, with a huge red pimpled face, and a great red nose. He held a dog's eared common prayer-book in his hand, opened at the page of matrimony. But paying little attention to his hor­rid visage, she pushed by sir Har­grave, turning him half round, and [Page 87] making the woman of the house tot­ter; then throwing herself at the cler­gyman's feet, good, dear, reverend sir, cried she, save a poor creature, basely tricked away from her friends. Save me from violence! Don't give your aid to sanctify a base action! The man snuffled his answer, and opening his pouched mouth, the to­bacco hung about his great yellow teeth; when taking her clasped hands, rise, madam, said he. Don't kneel to me. No harm is intended you. Who is that gentleman in the silver laced cloaths? He is sir Hargrave Pollex­fen, sir, said she; a wicked, a very wicked man. O madam, returned he, a very honourable man! bowing to sir Hargrave. Then asking her name, and she telling it to him, sir Hargrave seized her hand, and the souffling priest beg [...]n, Dearly beloved—The lady was perfectly frantic, and crying, read no more! read no more! dashed the book out of his hand, adding, I beg your pardon, sir, but you must read no further. I am basely betray­ed. I can't, I won't be his. Proceed, proceed, sir, said Hargrave, taking [Page 88] her hand by force, virago as [...] is, I will own her my wife. Again snuf­fled the minister, Dearly beloved. She flamped, crying, no dearly beloved's! while sir Hargrave held her struggling hand, and the minister proceeded, We are gathered together in the fight of God. I adjure you, sir Hargrave, in the same tremendous name, to stop all farther proceedings. Take my life; but my hand shall never be joined with yours. Proceed, doctor, pray, doctor, proceed, said the vile sir Hargrave. When the day dawns she'll be glad to own her marriage. Proceed at your pe­ril, sir, said she. If you be really a mi­nister of God, don't proceed. Don't make me desperate. Then turning to a window, she added, madam, you are a mother, and have given me room to hope you are a good woman; look upon me as if I was one of those your daughters.—Could you see one of them treated thus? Dear young wo­men, turning to each, can you uncon­cernedly look on, and see a poor crea­ture tricked, be [...]rayed, and thus vio­lently, basely treated, and not make my case your own? Speak for me! [Page 89] plead for me! If you be women, plead for me!—You have a soul to answer for. I can die; but never, never will be his! The young women wept; and the mother being moved, desired they might talk to the lady by themselves. This was granted; when, retiring into another room, they plead­ed sir Hargrave's great estate, his handsome person, his honourable love, and their being unable to save her from worse treatment. On the other hand, miss Byron pleaded her invin­cible aversion, and contempt of rich­es, crying, how, not able! Is not this, ladies, your own house? Cannot you raise your neighbours? Before the week is out, I will order a thousand pounds to be paid into your hands. I pledge my honour for the payment—A thousand pounds, dear ladies, only to save me, and see me safe to my friends!

At this moment sir Hargrave enter­ed, and, with a malicious look, desired the young wom [...] to go to bed, and leave the perverse beauty to him. He called her cruel, and ungrateful, swear­ing, that if she would not permit him [Page 90] to exalt her into lady Pollexfen, he would humble her. She would be greatly hurt, indeed, cried he, to be the wife of a man of my fortune and consequence! But I'll bring down her pride. What the devil, am I to creep, beg, and entreat only for a wife!—But, madam, added he, with a sneer, perhaps you'll be mine upon certain terms.

The mother and youngest daughter were then led by sir Hargrave to the [...]oor, the eldest following them, while miss Byron entreated them not to go; and when they did, made an attempt to follow them: but sir Hargrave, in shutting them out, gave her a dreadful crush with the door, she being half in and half out; her nose gushed out with blood; her stomach was much pressed, and one of her arms bruised. She s [...]reamed, and he appeared fright­ed; but she instantly recovering her­self, cried out, she hoped he had killed her; and throwing herself into a chair, repeated, so, so, you have killed me—Well, I hope you are now satisfied. I forgive you; only leave me to my own sex. She was in violent pain, her [Page 91] head swam, her eyes failed her, and she fainted away. Sir Hargrave, filled with consternation, ran about the room calling upon God to have mercy upon him, and having let in the women, they lamented over her, and said she had death in her face. The baronet, in the midst of his horror, seized her bloody handkerchief, and saying it should not appear against him, stepped into the next room, and thrust it into the fire, by which was sitting the mi­nister and his helper, over some burnt brandy. O Gentlemen, said he, no­thing can be done to-night. Take this, giving them money; the lady is in a fit, I wish you well home. They, how­ever proposed to sit in the chimney­corner till peep of day; when the wo­men fearing she would not recover, one of them ran in, and declared she was dead, on which, calling for a dram, they snatched up their hats and sticks, and hurried away.

On miss Byron's coming to herself, she found no body with her but the three women. She was in a cold sweat, and as there was no fire in the room, they conducted her into the pa [...]lour, [Page 92] which the two men had left; and be­ing hardly able to stand, they placed her in an elbow chair, and chafed her temples with Hungary water. Soon af­ter the mother and eldest daughter left her, and went to sir Hargrave: and the youngest being at length called out, the baronet entered, took a chair, and sat down by miss Byron, who still felt a violent pain in her stomach and arm. At last the lady breaking silence, said have you done well, sir Hargrave, to commit such violence on one who never did nor thought to injure you? In what distraction have you involved my cousin Reeves! She stopped, and he continuing silent, she resumed, these seem to be honest people, and I hope you only design to terrify me. Your bringing me into no worse com­pany, assures me that you meant bet­ter—Devils all! interrupted he. She again stopped, but soon added, I for­give you, sir, the pain you have given me.—But as soon as day breaks, I'll get the woman to let my cousin Reeves—up he started, crying, miss Byron, you are a woman, a true woman, hold­ing up his clenched hand. Then, after [Page 93] a short pause, you are the most con­summate hypocrite that I ever knew in my life. She was silent and trem­bled. Damn'd [...] fool! Ass! Block­head! Woman's fool, I could curse myself for sending away the parson! but your hypocrisy, madam, shall be of no service to you. What I failed in here, shall be done elsewhere. [...]he wept, but could not speak. Can't you go into fits again? cried he, with a sneering air. God deliver me, prayed she to herself, from this madman's hands. She then stood up, and the can­dle standing near the glass, saw her­self in the habit, to which she had hi­therto paid little attention. Pray, sir Hargrave, said she, let me beg you to te [...]y me no farther. I will forgive what is past, and consider it as a pro­per punishment, for my consenting to be thus marked for a vain and foolish creature. Your abuse, sir, allow me to say, is low and unmanly; but in the light of a punishment, I will confess I deserve [...]. Let my punishment end here; and I'll thank and forgive you with all my heart. Your fate is deter­mined said he; and the servant maid [Page 94] giving him a capuch [...]; he repeated, your fate is determined, madam.—Here put this on.—Now fall into fits again!—Put this on. She [...]eg­ged, prayed, and would have kneeled to him, but in vain; the capuchin was put on; and being afterwards muffled up in a man's cloak, in spite of all her p [...]d [...]ers, struggles and resistance, he lifted her into a chariot and six, which came up to the door.

The chariot was attended by several men on horseback, among whom was her own servant, and sir Hargrave stepping in, said to him, if you meet with impertinents, you know what to say; and on her screaming out, he up­braidingly cried, scream on, my dear, and barbarously mocked her, imitating the bleating of a sheep. Then rearing himself up, cried, with an air of tri­umph, now am I lord of miss Byron! At their first setting out, she once or twice cried out for help, when pre­tending she would catch cold, he tied a handkerchief over her face and mouth; and muffling her up in a cloak, leaned against her with his whole weight, holding both her hands with [Page 95] one of his, while his other arm being thrown round her, kept her on her seat. On her calling out for help, at the approach of passengers, she heard one of the men represent sir Hargrave as the best of husbands, and herself as the worst of wives. Thus every glim­mering ray of hope vanished from the poor lady's mind.

Sir Charles expecting lord and lady L—, who were returning from Scotland, had been at that nobleman's seat at Colnebrook, where he had left his sister Charlotte, to see every thing put in order against their arrival, and was coming to town in his chariot and six, when meeting sir Hargrave's cha­riot, the coachmen seemed to dispute the way. Sir Hargrave looking out, to see what was the matter, miss Byron pushed the handkerchief from her mouth and eyes, and [...] out, help! help! for God's sake. [...] Charles or­dered his coachman to stop, and sir Hargrave damning his coachman, called out, d [...]ve on, when I bid you. The lady again cried out for help, when sir Charles ordered his servants on horseback to stop she postilion of [Page 96] the other chariot, and bid sir Har­grave's coachman proceed at his peril. Sir Hargrave, with dreadful execra­tions, continued calling out on the contrary side of the chariot to that sir Charles was on. Upon which, sir Charles alighting, walked round to the other side, and the lady endeavouring to cry out, he observed sir Hargrave struggle to put the handkerchief over her mouth, when she seeing the stran­ger, spread out both her hands, re­peating, for God's sake!—Sir Charles taking sir Hargrave by the arms, said I am afraid you are engaged in a very bad affair. I am sir Hargrave Polex­fen, and carrying away a fugitive wife. Your own wife, sir Hargrave? Yes, said he, swearing; and she was going to elope from me, at a damn'd masque­rade. See, drawing aside the cloak, I detected her in the very dress! O no! no! no! [...] the lady. Proceed, coachman, cried sir Hargrave, and cursed and swore. Let me ask the lady a question, sir Hargrave. You are im­perti [...]ent, sir, said the villain: who the devil are you? Are you, madam, lady Pollexfen? returned sir Charles. O no! no! no! repeated she.

[Page 97] Instantly, two of sir Charles's ser­vants rode up to him, and a third held the head of the horse, on which the postilion sat. Three of sir Hargrave's approached on their horses, but ap­peared afraid of coming too near. Have an eye on these fellows, said sir Charles, some base work is on foot. Then addressing sir Hargrave's coach­man, who lashed his horses, he cried, sirrah, proceed at your peril. While sir Hargrave cursing and threatening him, ordered him to drive over all that opposed him. Sir Charles then turning to the lady, said, madam, will you—O sir, sir, sir. cried she, relieve me! help me for God's sake! I am in a villain's hands! Help! help! for God's sake! Sir Har­grave then drew his sword, and called upon his servants to fire at all that offered to oppose his passage, My servants, said sir Charles, have fire arms as well as yours; and will not dispute my orders. Don't provoke me to give the word. Will you, madam, put yourself into my protection? Oye yes, sir, said she, with all my he [...]r▪

At this instant sir Charles open [Page 98] the chariot door, when sir Hargrave making a pass at him, take that, scoun­drel; but sir Charles being aware of the thrust, put it by, though the sword raked his shoulder. His own sword was in his hand, butundrawn; and [...]he charior door remaining open, he seiz­ed sir Hargrave by the collar, before he could recover from the pass he had made; and with a jerk laid him under the hind wheel of the chariot. Then wrenching the sword from him, he snapped it, and threw away the two pieces. Sir Hargrave's mouth and face were instantly covered with blood, they being hurt by the pummel of sir Charles's sword, and one of his legs, in his sprawling, getting between one of the spokes of the chariot wheel, sir Charles charged his coachman not to stir for his master's sake.

Notwithstanding the disorder of miss Byron's mind, she had disengaged herself from the man's cloak. sir [...]harles was struck with her beauty, but still more with her terror. He then offered his hand; but instead of accepting it, she threw herself into his arms ready to saint; on which he carried her round sir Hargrave's horses, and seating her in his own chariot, as­sured [Page 99] her, that she was now in honour­able hands, and that he would carry her to his sister, a young lady of vir­tue and honour; when shutting the door, he entreated her to banish her fears; for he would attend her in a moment. Sir Hargrave's men had sled: and sir Charles's servants hav­ing purs [...]ed them a little way, were returning to support their master, when bidding one of them tell sir Hargrave his name, he stepped back to the char [...]ot, where, through terror, she was sunk down to the bottom, and at his approach, could only say, save me! save me! Sir Charles lifted her on the seat, and giving her all the con­solation possible, carried to his sister's.

M [...]ss Charlotte was so much sur­pr [...]sed at her brother's unexpected re­turn, and so affected at the disorder still visible [...]n the [...] countenance, that she at first gave little attention to her dress; and hea [...]ing sir Charles in a very tender manner, assure her of his and his sister's kindest pr [...]tection, she stepped up to her, and saluting her, bid her thr [...] welcome to that house. Miss [...]ron, too much hum­bled [Page 100] by her distress, threw herself on her knees to miss Charlotte, when sir Charles and that lady, raising her to her seat, you see before you, ma­dam, said she, a strange creature, and looked at her dress; but I hope you will believe I am an innocent one. Think not hardly, sir, added she, holding up her clasped hands, of her whom you have so generously delivered. Think not hardly of me, madam, the v [...]le, vile man—Sir Charles desired his sis­ter to make it her first care to raise the spirits of the injured beauty, and her next care to take her directions, and inform her friends of her safety; ob­serving, that such an admirable young lady could not be missed an hour, without exciting the fears of all her friends. Then sending for an emi­nent physician, and repeating that she was in honourable hands, and that his sister would take pleasure in obliging her, he took his leave.

The consternation of mr. and mrs. Reeves was exceeding great, on their coming home from the masquerade, and finding that miss Byron was not there. They immed [...]ately sent to the [Page 101] lady Betty's; but she being unable to give them any information, every me­thod they could think of was taken, to discover the place to which she was carried, but without effect, till they received a letter from miss Char­lotte, which informed them, that she had been cruelly treated, but was now in safe and honourable hands; and though she was very ill, she was better than she had been. Mr. Reeves in­stantly set out for lord L' [...], taking with him a portmanteau filled with miss Byron's cloaths, and there found his lovely cousin ill, but filled with gratitude for the favours she received from sir Charles and miss Charlotte.

As to sir Hargrave, he was not on­ly much bru [...]sed, but had still a great­er mortification, by his having three of his teeth struck out in the fall from the chariot, and his upper lip cut through, which he was obliged to have sewed up. He vowed revenge; and was no sooner recovered, than he sent sir Charles a challenge. But though sir Charles was perfectly skill­ed in the use of all the offensive wea­pons, he had resolved never to make [Page 102] use of them, except in his own de­fence. Sensible that duelling was con­trary both to the laws of God and society, he vindicated his right to guard his own life, and to spare him­self the guilt of murder: yet he justi­fied what he had done, boldly assert­ing to sir Hargrave's face, that were he to find him again guilty of a no­torious violation of the laws of huma­nity and justice, he would again exert himself in attempting to save injured innocence from the effects of bruta­lity.

Sir Charles and his sister were charmed with the conversation and engaging qualities of their amiable guest, and became so extremely fond of her, as to give her the title of sister; and on lord and lady L's arrival, after miss Byron's return to Mr. Reeve's, they were conducted thither by sir Charles and miss Charlotte, that they might then see and acknowledge their new relation. Miss Byron's heart was filled with gratitude to her gene­rous deliverer; whose virtues were the subject of her admiration, and this gratitude soon ripened into love.

CHAP. IX.

MISS Byron was charmed with the disinterested goodness in her deliverer; and sir Charles's sisters, by whom she was tenderly be­loved, observing the pleasure with which she I stened to every thing they said of him, and the delight she took in his conversa [...]ion, prevailed on her to confess the impression he had made on her heart; letting her know, that they wished to acknowledge her as their real sister, and generously of­fered their assistance, in order to dis­cover the situation of their brother's mind. They knew that he had a high esteem for miss Byron, but could not be certain that he was not under engagements to some foreign beauty. They therefore applied for informa­tion to the worthy doctor Bartlett, who was now sir Charles's chaplain, and was well acquainted with every circumstance of his life. But this [Page 104] gentleman referred them to their bro­ther; on which they took the first op­portunity to ask him whether he had any thought of marriage, and if his heart was in possession of any foreign lady. To this he only answered, that he was in a very difficult situation, and far from being happy. But a few days after, taking miss Byron in­to lord L—'s study, he gave her the history of the noble Clementina and his friend Jeronymo, referring her, for farther particulars to his letters to dr. Bartlett. She was extremely mov­ed by the affecting story, admired and pitied the lovely Italian; and every hope of happiness by an union with him, being now vanished, resolved to use her utmost endeavours, to con­quer her passion.

Sir Charles, some days after, paid a visit to miss Byron at her uncle Reeve's, where being left alone with her, he, with a solemn air, thus address­ed her: The last time I had the ho­nour of being alone with my good miss Byron, I told her a very tender tale, which must raise in such a heart as her's a generous compassion for the [Page 105] noblest lady on the continent. The story did indeed, affect you; and I am sure you must have suffered still more from the same compassionate goodness on the communications made you by dr. Bartlett. May I be al­lowed, madam, to add a few particu­lars on the same subject, for I am desirous to acquaint you, rather than any woman in the world, with all I know myself of this melancholy af­fair. Miss Byron, with trembling hesitation, answered, that the story was, indeed, a most affecting one, and that he would do her an honour in acquainting her with further particu­lars. Sir Charles then told her, that Clementina's brother the bishop, had written to entreat that he would once more visit Bologna, though the gene­ral was against his coming. He of­fered to meet him where he pleased, and to conduct him to Bologna, where his presence would rejoice every heart. He likewise shewed her a letter from mrs. Beaumont, which informed him of many affecting particulars. The noble yet unhappy Clementina had been hurried from place to place, with [Page 106] the expectation of seeing him, and had afterwards been put into the hands of the lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana, who, from interested mo­tives, and envy of her superior quali­ties, had treated her with the utmost cruelty. Miss Byron wept at read [...]ng the affecting particulars of those in­humanities, which had broken the spi­rit of the excellent lady, while sir Charles cried ou [...], how insupportable have been my reflex [...]ons, did my con­science tell me that I had been the wilful cau [...]e of the noble Clementina's calamities! He also shewed her a let­ter from seignior Jeronymo, which informed me that his life was a bur­den to him, and that he did not think himself in skilful hands, wishing that sir Charles and himself had been of one country, since the greatest felici­ty he could now enjoy, would be to resign up his life to the great author of it, in the arms of his dearest friend.

At this instant mr. Reeves entering the room, miss Byron walked to the window, and strove to recollect her­self. The gentleman soon after with­drew, when sir Charles coming up to [Page 107] her, my heart bleeds, sir, said she, for [...]he distresses of your Clementina; I admire, beyond expression, the greatness of her behav [...]our, and most sincerely do I lament her distresses. But what is there in the power of man, that sir Charles Grandison cannot do? You, sir, have ho­noured me with the title of sister, and in the tenderness of that relation, per­mit me to say, that I dread the ef­fects of the general's petulance; I feel for you the pain it must give your humane heart to be once more person­ally present to the woes of the inimi­table lady; but, I am sure, you did not hesitate a moment about leaving all your friends here, and resolving to haste over, to try at least what can be done for the noble sufferer. Sir Charles leading her to her seat, and taking his by her, answered, ever since I had the honour of knowing miss Byron, I have considered her as one of the most excellent of women. My heart demands an alliance with her's, though I am in so perplexed a situa­tion, that I scarcely da [...]e trust myself to speak on the subject. From the [Page 108] first, I called miss Byron my sister; but she is even more to me than the dearest sister, and whatever may be the accidents of either side to bar a farther wish, I aspire to hold a more tender friendship with her; and this I hope she will not deny me, so long as it shall be consistent with her other attachment. He paused, and she made an effort to speak, but could not ut­ter a word. He then told her, that he had wrote to the bishop, that he would most chearfully comply with his wishes, and that as Jeronymo ex­pressed himself dissatisfied with his sur­geons, he only wa [...]ed for a skilful one, who was settling his affairs, in order to go with him. Then, invit­ing miss Byron to dine with him the next day, he took his leave.

Sir Charles, having settled some important affairs, particularly the mar­riage of his sister Charlotte to lord G—, and obtained the opinion of se­veral eminent physicians in writing, on lady Clementina's case, he set out for Italy, by the way of France, ac­companied by mr. Lowther, a skilful surgeon.

CHAP. X.

IN his journey to Paris, he was stopped by one of sir Hargrave Pol­lexfen's servants, who gave him a dismal account that his master and another gentleman had been at­tacked by several men, who were at that time murdering them behind a hill at a small distance. Sir Charles leaping out of the postchaise, desired mr. Lowther's servant to dismount, and getting on his horse, galloped away with his three servants towards the place. His ears were soon pierced with the poor wretches cries, and he beheld two men on horseback hold­ing [Page 110] the horses of four others, who had two gentlemen under them strug­gling, groaning, and crying for mercy. Sir Charles who was a good way a­head of his servants, called to them to spare the gentlemen, and galloping towards the prostrate sufferers, two of the four quitted them, and mounting, joined the two other horsemen, ad­vancing to meet him, wi [...]h a shew of supporting the two men on foot, who continued lying on the wr [...] un­mercifully with the bu [...]t end of their whip [...]. The four men on horse-back demanded a conference, with their pistols in their hands, as sir Charles also had his, advising him not to p [...] ­voke his fate by his rashness, and de­claring that he was a dead man if he fired. S [...]r Charles bid them forbear all further violence to the gentlemen, and then he would hear what they had to say. He then put his pistol into his hol [...]er, and one of his servants coming up, and the two others being at hand, he called out to them not to fire till they had his orders; and giv­ing him hi [...] horse's reins, leaped down, drew his sword, and advancing to­wards [Page 111] the two men who were so cruel­ly exercising their whips: but on his approach, they drew their hang­ers, and retired to a little distance. The four men on horse-back joining the two on foot, just as they were quitting the object of their fury, one of them said, forbear brother, for the present, any farther violence; the gentleman shall be told the cause. Murder, sir, said he, is not intended, nor are we robbers. Those you are solicitous to save are villains. At this instant, sir Charles first raised one groaning man, and then the other. Their heads were covered with blood, and they were so bruised, that they could not extend their arms to reach their wigs and hats which lay near them. By this time the men on foot had mounted their horses, and all six stood on their defence; but one of them was so furious, that two of the others could scarce restrain him, he cried that his vengeance should be still more complete. At this instant came up mr. Lowther, and his servant in the chaise, each with a pistol in his hand, and he having, at sir Charles's [Page 112] desire, examined their wounds, de­clared that there was no apparent dan­ger of death. On which sir Charles observed, that as they had neither at­tempted to fly, nor been guilty of vio­lence to himself, his friend, or ser­vants, he was afraid they had reason to think themselves ill used by the gentlemen. You, sir, cried one of them, seem to be a man of honour and temper; we are men of honour as well as you. Our design was not to kill the miscreants, as we told you, but to give them reason to remember their villainy as long as they lived, and to put it out of their power ever to be guilty of the like. They have made a vile attempt on a lady's honour at Abbeville, and finding themselves de­tected, have endeavoured, by round­about ways, to escape the vengeance of her friends. That gentleman has reason for being enraged, since he is the lady's husband; that and that are her brothers. The villains have not yet been punished as they deserve, but let them ask on their knees this gen­tleman's pardon, pointing to the hus­band, and promise never more to come [Page 113] within two leagues of Abbeville, and we will leave them in your protection. Sir Charles then turning towards sir Hargrave and his companion, said, gentlemen, if you have done wrong, you ought not scruple asking pardon; but if you know yourselves to be in­nocent, though I would be loth to risque the lives of my friend and ser­vants; my countrymen shall not make so undue a submi [...]ion. The wretches instantly kneeled, and the others ci­villy saluting sir Charles and mr. Lowther, rode off to the great joy of the two delinquents, who again kneel­ed to their deliverers, pouring forth blessings on the man whose life one of them had so lately sought, and in whose preservation he had such rea­son to rejoice. Sir Hargrave's post­chaise now coming up, he and his companion were, with difficulty, lift­ed into it, while sir Charles and Mr. Lowther went into theirs, and being only at a small distance from Paris, they proceeded to that city in company.

Sir Charles was met at Parma by the bishop and father Marescotti, where he found them at the palace [...] [Page 114] the count of Belvedere. They all expressed great joy at seeing him; but told him, on his enquiring after the barone Jeronymo, that he was alive, and that was all; however, the sight of his friend would be a cor­dial to his heart. As to Clementina, her bodily health was greatly impair­ed, and they had little hopes of the recovery of her mind. They both re­gretted that she had been denied the requested interview at his departure, and were convinced, that if it had been granted, and she had been left to mrs. Beaumont's friendly care, they might have expected a happy issue. The next day they set out for Bolog­na, and the count of Belvedere ac­companying them about half way, found an opportunity to mention to sir Charles his unabated passion for Clementina, and that he had lately made offers to marry her, notwith­standing the disorder of her mind, since he flattered himself that her cure was not impossible.

Sir Charles, on his arrival at Bo­logna, hasted to the barone, who, the moment he saw him, cried, do I once [Page 115] more behold my friend, my Grandi­son? let me embrace my dearest friend, now, now, I have lived long enough; and bowing his head on his pillow, his countenance shone with pleasure in spite of his pain. The bishop then led him to the marquiss and marchio­ness, when his reception from the former was kind, but from that of his lady, it was that of a mother to a long absent child. She told him, she had had ever esteemed him her fourth son, and now he had brought over with him a surgeon of experience, and advice in writing, of eminent physi­cians of his country, the obligations he had laid on their whole family, were too great ever to be returned. They received Mr. Lowther with great politeness, and recommended their Jeronymo to his best skill. His two surgeons were sent [...], and sir Charles having given them mr. Lowther's character presented him to them, and they informed him of their method of proceeding. The [...] e [...]ning, mr. Lowther a [...]ed a [...] the d [...]ings, and in so easy and [...] a [...] sug­ [...]d an [...] [...] gentle­man [Page 116] came readily into it. The fa­mily were now delighted with mr. Lowther, and flattered themselves with the hopes of the barone's reco­very.

When sir Charles had been a few days at Bologna, the lady Clemen­ [...]ina was brought thither by the ge­neral and his lady, to whom he had [...]ately been married. The general could never bear the thought that sir Charles, an English protestant, should be thought of such consequence [...]o his fi [...]ers happiness: hence he had al­ways been his enemy; he therefore [...]ow expressed himself with coldness on his coming over, and treated him with contempt. This behaviour sir Charles resented, and with a noble superiority of behaviour obliged him to ban [...]sh his unjust suspicions, and at length to grant him his esteem. The lady Cle­ [...]enti [...]a seemed the picture of [...]ilent woe: she neither knew nor paid the [...] attention to her mother, of whom she had never before been unmind­f [...]l: [...] it was resolved to [...] her [...] reducing her in a [...] which [...] Charles was [Page 117] present. Being before told that he was arrived, she entered, leaving only Camilla, her woman, with her ser­vant Laura attending. Her motion was slow and solemn; her robes were black, and flowing; her dejected face was half covered by a veil of black gause, and her eyes cast on the ground. Sir Charles arose from his seat, sat down, and rose again irresolute, not knowing what he did, or what to do. She approached the table, round which the company sat, but with her eyes cast down, and more than half clos­ed: she then turned towards the window. Here, here, madam, said Camilla, leading her to a chair that had been placed for her between the marchioness and the general's lady. She sat down. Her mother wept, as did also the general's lady; and her father sobbing, turned his head aside. Her mother then took her hand, say­ing, my love, look round about you; but she took no notice. The general grieved and impatient, arose; stepped to her; and hanging over her shoulder, cried, my dearest sister, look upon us all. See your father, mother, sister, [Page 118] and every body in tears. If you love us, smile upon us; when lifting up her eyes to him, she tried to smile: but such a solemnity had taken possession of her features, that her smile ap­peared the smile of woe. The mar­quis rising from his seat, with his handkerchief at his eyes, cried, sweet creature! never, never [...]et me see a­gain such smile as that. It is here, add [...]d he, lying hi [...] hand on his bosom. Obliging sister, said the general; see father Marescotty is in tears, (he sat by sir Charles) pity his grey hairs! She cast her eyes that way, and saw sir Charles greatly affected. She started, she looked again: again started, red­dening and turning pale by turns. She rose, then threw her arms about Ca­milla, who stood by her, crying, O Camilla! then gave way to a violent burst of tears. Sir Charles was spring­ing to her, and before them all, would have clasped her in his arms, but the general stopping him, dear Grandison, keep your seat. If Cle­mentina remembers her English tutor, she will once more welcome you to Bologna. O Camilla, said she, faith­ful [Page 119] good Camilla! now at last you have told me truth! It is, it is he, hiding her face in Camilla's bosom. She then, supported by the Marchio­ness and the general's lady, turned to­wards the door; but sir Charles com­ing up to her, she stopped, and saying, Ah, chevalier, reclined her head on her mother's bosom, seemed ready to faint. He took her hand, and kneel­ing, pressed it to his lips, crying, for­give me, ladies, forgive me; lady Cle­mentina! His soul overflowing with tenderness, he could say no more; he therefore rose. She moved on to the door, and then turned her head, straining to look at him till she was out of the room, sir Charles standing like a statue.

After this, many tender interviews passed between sir Charles and Cle­mentina. The whole family repeat­edly used the most earnest persuasions to induce sir Charles to change his religion; but these proving ineffec­tual, they consented to give him Cle­mentina on the conditions he himself had proposed; the daughters were, therefore, to be considered as Italians, [Page 120] they were to be educated in Italy, and to enjoy the great estate given to Cle­mentina by her two grandfathers, on condition of her marrying; while the sons, as being protessants, were to be educated in England, and provided for by their father. Mean while, sir Charles's joy was damped by the grief of the count of Belvedere, who, ar­riving at Bologna, pa [...]d him several visits; and being weary of life, strove, but in vain to prevail on sir Charles to meet him without the city gates, protesting, that while he had life, Clementina should not be his.

The whole family having consented to sir Charles's union with Clemen­tina, and the marriage articles being settled, it was imagined she would have received his hand with transport: but now a sudden thoughtfulness took possession of her mind, and she spent a considerable time in writing. On sir Charles' [...] being introduced to her, she received him with tears, sighs, and trembling hesitation; and having put a paper into his hand, cried, leave me, leave me; then retiring to her closet, shut the door, and fell on her knees; [Page 121] when sir Charles, to avoid hearing sighs which pierced his heart, walked into the next room, where he found her mother and Camilla, who instant­ly went to her. When opening the paper, he was astonished at finding that it contained the most earnest per­suasions to banish all thoughts of be­ing united to her by marriage, urged by all the tenderness of mind influen­ced by piety, and overflowing with love and gratitude: the substance of which is as follows:

O thou, whom my heart loveth; my tutor, my brother, my friend! seek me not to marriage. Thy soul was ever most dear to Clementina; whenever I meditated the gratefulness of thy person, I restrained my eye, I checked my fancy by meditating on the superior graces of thy mind. And is no [...] that soul, thought I, to be sa­ved? Dear obstinate and perverse! And shall I bind my soul to a soul allied to perdition?—O thou, most amiable of men! how can I be sure that were I thine, thou wouldst not draw me after thee, by thy love, by thy sweetness of manners, by thy con­descending [Page 122] goodness. I, who once thought a heretic the worst of beings, have been already led by the amiable­ness of thy piety, by the universality of thy charity, to thin [...] more favour­ably of heretics for thy sake? Of what force could be the advice of the most pious confessor, were thy conde­secending goodness and sweet persua­sion to be exerted, to melt a heart wholly thine? O thou whom my soul loveth, seek not to entangle me by thy love! Were I to be thine, my duty to thee would mislead me from that I owe to my God, and make me more than temporarily unhappy; for, canst thou, can I be indifferent in these high matters? Hast thou not shewn me that thou canst not? And shall I not be instructed by thine example? Shall a wrong religion have a force and eff [...]acy upon thee, which a right one cannot have upon me? O thou most amiable of men! seek not to en­tangle me by thy love; but dost thou indeed love me, or is it owing to thy generosity, thy nobleness, thy com­passion for a creature, who, aiming to be great, like thee, could not sustain [Page 123] the effort? I know thou lovest Cle­mentina: It is her pride to think thou dost. But she is not worthy of thee. Yet let thy heart own that thou lovest her soul, her immortal soul, and her future peace. In that wilt thou shew thy love, as she has endeavoured to shew her's. Thou art all magnanimi­ty; thou canst sustain the effort to which she was unequal. Make some other woman happy, but let it not be an Italian.

O thou whom my soul loveth, let me try the greatness of thy love, and the greatness of thy soul, by thy en­deavours to strengthen, and not to im­pair a resolution, which after all, it will be in thy power to make me break or keep! But my brain wound­ed, my health impaired, can I ex­pect a long life? and shall I not en­deavour to make the close of it happy.

But, O my friends, what can we do for this great and good man, in re­turn for his goodness to two of your children? These obligations lie hea­vy upon my heart. Yet who knows not his magnanimity? Divine, al­most divine philanthropist, canst thou [Page 124] forgive me? I know thou canst. Thou hast the same notions that I have of the brevity and vanity of this world's glory, and of the duration of that to come! If I have the courage, the resolution to shew thee this paper, do thou enable me, by thy great exam­ple, to complete the conquest of myself; and do not put me upon taking advan­tage of the generosity of my honoured friends. Yet after all, it must be, let me own, in thy choice; for I cannot bear to be thought ungrateful to such exalted merit, to add what name thou pleaseth to that of Clementina.

At reading this paper, sir Charles was amazed, confounded, and filled with admiration at the angelic soul of this lady. He threw himself on a couch, without thinking of Camilla, who sat in the window. Clementina rang, Camilla hasted to her. He start­ed as she passed him, and rose; but on her return, she roused him from the stupefaction with which he was seized. O sir, cried she, my poor la­dy fears your anger; she fears, yet hopes to see you. Haste, haste, and save her from fainting. He ran in.— [Page 125] The admirable lady met him half way, and throwing herself at his feet, said, forgive, forgive the creature that must be miserable, if she has offended you. He attempted to raise her, but she cried, she would not rise till he had forgiven her. He then kneeled to her as she kneeled, and clasping her in his arms, cried, forgive you, ma­dam! O inimitable woman! Can you forgive me for having presumed, and for still presuming to hope to call such an angel mine! Being ready to faint, she threw her arms about sir Charles, to support herself. Camilla held her salts to her nose, and she again repeated, am I, am I forgiven? Say that I am. Forgive you, madam! he returned, you have done nothing that wants forgiveness! I admire your greatness of mind. What you wish, bid me be, and that I will be. Rise, most excellent of human creatures! Sir Charles, then raising her, led her to a chair, and involuntarily kneeled on one knee with both her hands in his, and looked up to her with eyes filled with love and reverence. Ca­milla had hasted to the marchioness, [Page 126] crying, O madam! such a scene! hasten up, hasten up. They will faint in one another's arms. The marchio­ness ran after Camilla, and found them thus kneeling. Dear chevalier, cried she, for the sake of my child's head restrain your grateful rapture! O madam, said sir Charles, rising and taking one of her hands, glory in your daughter: You always loved and ad­mired her; you will now glory in her, she is an angel. Permit me, ma­dam, added he, looking at Clementi­na, to present this pa [...]er to the mar­chioness. He the [...] gave it her, say­ing, read it, madam, let your lord, let the bishop, let father Marescotti read it. But read it with compassion for me, and then direct me what to say, what to do! I resign myself en­tirely to your direction and theirs; and to yours, my dear lady Clemen­tina. You say you forgive me, cheva­lier, said she; now shall I forgive myself. God's goodness and yours will, I hope, perfectly restore me. O chevalier, love my mind, as yours was ever the object of my love.

Every person in the family were [Page 127] astonished at this unexpected turn; the barone pitied his friend, telling him that he could not bear to see a mind like his, subject to the petulance of a brain sick g [...]rl: but none of them imagined she would be able to keep her resolution; and to encourage sir Charles, they reminded him, that she had entirely put herself in his power, by writing, that he might add what name he pleased to that of Clemen­tina. Sir Charles, however, perceiv­ed that her conscience was concerned, and notwithstanding his passion, he told them, he could not resolve to per­suade her to violate it. Dear Grandi­son, said the bishop, taking his hand, how I admire you! But can you be so great? Shall I not, my lord, he returned, emulate such an example set by a woman? I came over with­out any interested views. I indeed con­sidered myself as bound by the condi­tions to which I had formerly agreed; but the lady Clementina and your fa­mily, as free. If she persists in her resolution, I will endeavour to acqui­esce.

A few days after, the marchioness, [Page 128] in Clementina's name, begged of sir Charles that he would accept of her, on the conditions they themselves had proposed, and that he would change his religion. Father Marcscotti, se­conding the motion, would have in­treated him on his knees. O cheva­lier said the bishop, how happy is it in your power to make us all! You will not, I hope, dear Grandison, said the marquis, refuse my daughter. Ask any conditions of us. She shall be with you in England in a month's time. We will accompany her thither; and stay till you shall chuse to return with us. Jeronymo, sobbing, caught his hand, crying for God's sake, for my sake, for all our sakes, for your soul's sake, my Grandison, be ours. Let your Jeronymo call you brother. If my tears, if my prayers have weight, said the marchioness, let me call down my child, and she shall give you her hand in our presence. She thinks, besides her regard for your soul, that she ought to insist upon the terms on which we would have consented to make her yours, in gratitude for our compliance with her wishes. Dearest▪ [Page 129] Grandison! rejoined the bishop, re­fuse not my sister, refuse not the as­senting Clementina.

They were all silent, with their eyes fixed upon sir Charles, on which he replied, refuse lady Clementina, said you! How you wound my soul by the supposition! Lady Clementina's generous and condescending proposal, when I am willing to allow terms to her, that she will not to me, shews how important she thinks the differ­ence between the two religions, and I have only to confess myself, that the power of refusal lies where it ought. Yet let me add, this company cannot think me too solemn—Were I to live always here, and were con­vinced there is no life after this, your commands and Clementina's would be laws to me. But has she not the goodness to say in her paper, that I have the same notion as she of the brevity and vanity of this world's glo­ry, and of the duration of that to come. It is hard, very hard, said the bishop, for a man convinced of the truth of his religion, to allow to ano­ther▪ of a different persuasion, what he [Page 130] expects should be allowed for himself. You, chevalier, however, can allow it; and have such greatness of mind as to judge favourably of those who cannot. I do love you, but fain would I love you more. The marchioness wept. My dear love, said the marquis, taking her hand, how many tears has this affair cost you:—My heart bleeds to see you weep. The chevalier is un­worthy of our child, unworthy of the terms we offered him; unworthy of our joint entreaties—He is an invinci­ble man.

Sir Charles being greatly affected, withdrew; but having taken two or three turns in the saloon, returned; on which the marquis coming to him, cried, I am sorry—Not one word of apology, my lord, said sir Charles, interrupting him: I did not withdraw from resentment, but purely from concern, that in your opinion, I did not deserve the honor, done me by one so dear to you. Think me unhap­py, my lord, and pity me. Principle, not perverseness, influences me. It does every one present; it does the lady above; and shall we not [...]llow [Page 131] for one another, when we are all ac­tuated by the same motive? At this the bishop threw his arms about sir Charles, crying, generous expansion of heart!

Sir Charles, now finding that Cle­mentina stedfastly persisted in her re­solution, desired they would allow him to make one effort to convince her, that she might be happy with him; by endeavouring to remove her scruples with respect to his inviolable honour, and his allowing her the free exercise of her religion. To this they at length consented: and she desiring to see him, he earnestly pleaded his having agreed to allow her her chapel, her confessor, and her own servants. He alleged, that he might prevail on her father and mother to give them the pleasure of their company in their first journey to England; and that the ba­rone would likewise go with them, and might obtain great benefit from the use of the restorative baths of his country. He expatiated on the ple [...] ­sure she would receive from the aff [...] ­tion of his sisters and their lords, who would accompany her in her j [...]ur [...]ey [Page 132] to Italy; and on the delight with which she would every other year vi­sit and revisit England and her native country. How dear, cried he, will you be in turn, to your old friends and to your new! My dearest Cle­mentina! let me hear you say, that you think you can be happy, and yet bless me with your love. O how, said she, shall I guard myself against a voice that is the voice of love!—If I at­tempt to argue, I am lost!—Does not this shew me, that were I to be yours, I must be all you wish? And then my everlasting peace; my everlasting hap­piness! O chevalier! I doubt not your justice, your generosity: but I fear myself;—seek not, let me rep [...]at, seek not, kindest of men, to entangle me with your love. Sir Charles fear­ing she would have fainted, clasped her in his arms; and she returned, let me, let me cut short what I intended to say, by referring you to my paper, which cannot be answered to my satis­faction. Be my advocate to your own heart, and seek not, dearest of men, to entangle me with your love. Sir Charles then assured her, that what­ever [Page 133] it cost him, he would yield to her pleasure, and never urge her again on that subject, except he was inform­ed by the bishop that she had changed her mind.

The agitations he had suffered were scarcely to be supported; and as he found his health affected, he thought it necessary, both on the noble lady's account and his own, to wean himself by absence. He therefore visited seve­ral cities of Italy, and then returned to take his final leave of Bologna. The joy and gratitude of the marquis, his lady, and her son, on the recover­ed intellects of their incomparable daughter; the pleasing prospect of the recovery of Jeronymo, and their ad­miration and affection for a person to whom they were under such great ob­ligations, made them at a loss how to return the favour he had conferred up­on them; and they entreated him to let them know what return he would accept. On which he observed, that the highest favour he could possibly re­ceive, would be the honour of a visit the next spring, from that noble fami­ly; by which means, he made no [Page 134] doubt, but that his dear Jeronymo would be perfectly recovered by the use of the English [...]aths. They accept­ed this proposal with hearts filled with admiration, and sir Charles, after tak­ing an affecting leave of Clementina and Jeronymo, set out for England.

CHAP. XII.

ON sir Charles's arrival in his na­tive country, he was received by his family and friends with the warm­est testimonies of joy: but he was ex­tremely alarmed to hear that miss By­ron was ill; he therefore took a jour­ney into Northamp onshire, where that lady lived with her relations, and paid a visit to Mrs. Shirley, her grand­mother, an elderly lady of a very amiable character; when, informing her of his situation with respect to Clementina, he asked if it was con­sistent with her notions of delicacy, to [Page 135] give her interest in his favour; ad­ding, that if it was, and if miss Byron would accept of a heart that had been thus unaccountably divided, they would lay him under an obligation that he could only endeavour to re­turn by the utmost gratitude and af­fection; then desiring an answer in writing, he left upon the table several letters he had received from Jerony­mo and Clementina, with his answers, that she might see that the affair was entirely finished between him and that lady, and then took his leave.

Immediately mrs. Shirley sent for miss Byron, mr. and mrs. Selby, with some other relations, and having informed them of the welcome news, they read the letters, which gave them entire satisfaction; on which the old lady wrote to sir Charles, that they received as the highest honour, the offer he had made of an alliance, that would do credit to families of the first rank; and that it had been their most ardent wish, that the man, who had rescued the dear creature, might be a [...] liberty to entitle himself to her grate­ful love.

[Page 136] Sir Charles, on receiving this wel­come letter, paid his addresses to miss Byron. She at first received him with visible confusion, but was soon en­couraged by his polite and tender be­haviour. He showed her another let­ter from Jeronymo, in which his dear friend urged him to set an example to Clementina, by entering into the mar­riage state, and informing him, that the noble lady wished for nothing more than to hear of his being happily married. You see, madam, added he, I am fully free, with regard to Cle­mentina; free by her own choice. It was always Clementina's wish that I would marry, and only be careful that my choice should not disgrace her regard for me; but when she has the pleasure of knowing the dear lady be­fore me, if I am allowed that honour, she will confess that my choice has done the highest credit to the favour she honoured me with. He was silent, and seeming to expect an answer; the honour, said she, with much hesitati­on, of sir Charles Grandison, no one ever did, or ever can doubt.—I must own—I must confess—Here she paus­ed. [Page 137] What does my dear miss Byron own? What confess? said he. As­sure yourself, madam, of my honour, of my gratitude. Should you have doubts, speak them. This, sir, said she, is my confession, the confession of a heart no less sincere than yours, that I am dazzled and confounded at the superior merits of the noble lady you still so justly esteem. I fear not, sir, any more than she, your honour, your justice, your indulgent tender­ness. Your character, your principles are full security to the woman who shall endeavour to deserve that indulgence. But so justly high do I think of the lady Clementina's conduct, that I fear it is impossible. What impossible? What does my dear miss Byron fear is impossible? Thus kindly urged, re­turned she, why shall I not speak all that is in my mind? The poor Har­riot Byron, when she contemplates the magnani [...] of that excellent la­dy, fears, [...] with all her endea­vours, she sh [...] never be able to make the figure to herself that is necessary for her tranquillity. This, sir, is all my fear. Generous, kind, noble miss [Page 138] Byron, returned he, in a rapture; and is this all your fear? Then must the man before you be happy. Cle­mentina has acted gloriously, prefer­ring her religion and her country, to all other considerations; and shall I not be doubly bound in gratitude to her sister excellence, who not having these trials, yet the most delicate of human minds, shows in my favour, a frankness of heart which sets her above little forms, and at the same time a generosity with regard to the merits of another lady, that has few examples? May my future life be at­tended with blessings, in proportion as this grateful heart shall acknow­ledge your goodness!

At last the happy day was fixed. The relations of miss Byron chose to have the ceremony performed in as public a manner as possible; and sir Charles coming into their measures, that lady acquiesced, though she could not, without great [...]siness, think of being exposed, on [...] solemn oc­casion, to the view of a number of spectators. Sir Charles invited his nearest relations; and those of miss By­ron were desirous of attending her.

[Page 139] The ladies were all elegantly dres­sed; but miss Byron was in virgin white. The procession to church con­sisted of eight coaches and four, and the way was lined with spectators. On their stopping at the church yard, four tenants daughters, the eldest not above thirteen, unexpectedly appear­ed with neat baskets in their hands filled with flowers; and as soon as the bride, mr. Selby, sir Charles, and mrs. Shirley alighted, these pretty lit­tle Floras, all dressed in white, with chaplets of flowers for head-dresses, large nosegays in their bosoms, white ribbons adorning their stays and their baskets, some streaming down, and others tied round the handles in true lovers' knots, attended the com­pany; two going before, and the others here and there, all strewing flowers.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, sir Charles with a joy, that lighted up a finer flush [...] usual in his face, took the bride by the hand, and saluting her, said, in an audible voice, may God, my dearest life, be gracious to your Grandison, [Page 140] as he will be good to his Har­riet, now no longer Byron! She cur­tesied low, every one blessing her, and pronouncing her the loveliest of women, and him the politest and most graceful of men. Sir Charles now led her intothe vestry, followed by the rest of their friends; and the moment she beheld her grandmother, she kneeling, cried, bless, madam, your happy, happy child. [...]od for ever bless, said she, the darling of my heart! Sir Charles then bending his knee to the venerable lady, said, receive and bless also your son. The good lady was af­fected; she slid off of her seat on her knees, and lifting up her hands and eyes, while the tears trickled down her cheeks, cried, thou Almighty, bless the dear son of my wishes! He raised her with a pious tenderness, and saluted her. Excellent lady! said he; but was too much affected to say more; and having seated her, turned to mrs. Selby. Words are poor, said he. My actions, my behaviour, shall speak the grateful sense I have of your goodness, saluting her; of yours, madam, to mrs. Shirley; and of [Page 141] yours, my dearest life, addressing himself again to his lovely bride, who seemed scarcely able to support her joy. Let me once more, added he, bless the hand that has blessed me! She chearfully offered it. I give you, sir, said she, my hand, curtsying, and with it a poor but grateful heart.—It is all your own. He bowed upon it, unable to speak. Joy, joy, joy, was wished the happy pair from every mouth. See, my dear young la­dies, said the happy and instructive mrs. Shirley, addressing herself, to several who had entered the vestry, the reward of duty, virtue, and obe­dience! How unhappy must those parents and relations be, whose daugh­ters, unlike our Harriet, have disgra­ced themselves and their families by a shameful choice!—As my Harri­et's is, such, looking round her, be your lot, my amiable daughters! They each besought her hand, kissed it, and promised to cherish the me­mory of what they had seen and heard.

Sir Charles wrote the very next day to inform his dear friend the barone [Page 142] della Porretta of the actual celebra­tion of his nuptials, and concluded with a caution, given in the warmest terms, against urging Clementina, with too much earnestness, to marry. The same day, by sir Charles's desire, the church-wardens brought a list of the poor, amounting to upwards of a hun­dred and forty persons, divided into two classes; one, of the poor—the other of house-keepers and labouring people, who were ashamed to apply, but to whom the church wardens knew his bounty would be acceptable. He gave very liberally to all, and in particular, to about thirty of the last: and the church wardens, who were men of great humanity, went away blessing him.

On the following Sunday, the relations of the bride and bride­groom, were all richly dressed. The bride, lovely in any dress, wore rich­er silks than usual, costly laces and jewels that added grace to that admi­rable proportion, and those fine fea­tures to which no painter has been able to do justice. The bridegroom was principally admired for his native [Page 143] [...]ase and dignity, and that inattention to his own appearance which shews the truly fine gentleman, accustomed to be always elegant. On his lady's coming to him and her friends, they involuntarily rose, as if to pay her homage; but sir Charles approaching her, with an air of unusual freedom, cried, how lovely! But what is even all this amazing loveliness to the graces of her mind? They every hour rise upon me. She hardly opens her lips, but I find reason to bless God and you, my dear ladies, bowing to mrs. Shirley and mrs. Selby; for God and you have given her goodness.—My dear life, allow me to say, that this person, which will be your first per­fection in every stranger's eye, is but a second in mine. Teach me, sir, said she, to deserve your love, by improv­ing the mind you have the goodness to prefer, and then I shall be the hap­piest of women on earth. The church was extremely crouded, and the char­ming couple greatly admired. Sir Charles and his bride, however, did not forget that humble deportment due to the place, which seemed to render them absent for the time from [Page 144] that splendor, which attracted every [...]ye out of the pews in which the fa­mily were placed. The church, in the afternoon, was still more crouded. How was sir Charles blessed by the poor, and people of low circum­stances, for his well disposed bounty!

Sir Charles and his bride, having received and returned the visits of the neighbouring gentry, and giving the tenants their company at another en­tertainment provided for them, they set out for Grandison-hall, sir Charles's principal seat; where, hav­ing again run the round of receiv­ing and paying visits, they settled into that pleasing serenity, that constitutes the most perfect state of human hap­piness.

A considerable part of his time was now employed in improving his es­tate, in order to enable him to exer­cise his generous spirit. He became acquainted with every tenant, and even cottager, enquiring into their circumstances, the number of their children, and their prospects. When they were distressed, he would forgive arrears of rent; or send them on ur­gent [Page 145] occasions, a supply of money; and when they had no prospect of success, he gave them money to quit. At the tenants' desire, he transplant­ed one to a larger farm, and another to a less, according to their stock, or the probability of success. By these acts of humanity and friendship, a means, his tenants overcame every difficulty, and [...]rew rich, while he himself reaped the benefit of his own▪ generosity, by the case and punctua­lity with which they paid their rents. On the other hand he began to em­ploy himself in reconciling the differ­ences between his friends and tenants, and frequently united those, who, from any misunderstanding, had been at variance; it being his settled opi­mon, that a day spent in restoring peace and harmony, let the objects be ever so mean, is more pleasing, on re [...]exion, than a day spent in the most elegant indulgence.

CHAP. XIII.

WHILE sir Charles was thus employed in the most generous acts of humanity and friendship, a letter he received from the barone della Porretta, filled him with deep concern. By this letter he learned that the lady Clementina, being strongly bent on taking the veil, had been pressed with such earnestness and incessant importunity to give her hand to the count of Belvedere, as had greatly disordered her brain; and that, to avoid that union, and put a stop to these importunate solicitations, she had fled from her friends; and with no other attendants than her page, an English youth, and her servant Lau­ra, had embarked in a vessel bound to London; and that both her father, mother, and himself, together with several other of her friends, being in­consolable for her loss, were follow­ing her; beseeching him to search for the fugitive Clementina, and to pro­vide [Page 147] them lodgings against their arri­val. It is no wonder that this news gave both sir Charles and his lady great concern. They were then at Grandison-hall: and that lady being firmly convinced of the steadiness of his v [...]rtue, immediately persuaded him to give the unhappy Clementina his protection. Dear sir, said she, consider me as a strengthener▪ not as a weakener of your hands in her ser­vice. My only concern is for her safety and honour, and for your con­cern on the affecting occasion, and let me, by sympathising with you, les­sen it. Soul of my soul, cried he, clasping her in his bosom, I have not the least doubt of your generous goodness. It would be doing injustice to the unhappy lady, and to the know­ledge I have of my own heart, as well as to you, the absolute mistress of it, to think it necessary to make professions of my inviolable love to you. I will acquaint you with every step I take on this occasion, and must have your advice as I go along: for such delicate m [...]nds as yours and Cle­mentina's must be nearly allied.

[Page 148] Sir Charles immediately rode post [...]o town, where he found a long let­ter from the fugitive lady, who in unconnected ramblings, lamented the s [...]ep she had taken; observing, that she was far from being happy; but wished for his advice and protection, though she did not dare to let him know where he might see her; yet at the same time informed him how he might direct a letter, so as to come to her hands. He strove, in his answer, to sooth her mind; offering to put her under his lady's or his sister's pro­tection; and beseeching her to re­move his anxiety, by giving him an immediate opportunity of seeing her. In another letter she earnestly endea­voured to engage him to use his inte­rest with her friends to allow her the freedom of her choice, and prevent her being forced [...]o marry the count of Belvedere. All this he readily promised in his reply. And she al­lowed him to wait on her.

Sir Charles went, and was intro­duced by her servant Laura. On his entering the room, he immediately welcomed her to England. Do you, [Page 149] can you, cried she, bid me welcome, me a fugitive, an ingrate, undutiful!—O chevalier, don't debase your un­ [...]llied character, by approving the un­natural step I have taken. I do bid you welcome, madam, said, he; your brother, your friend from his soul, welcomes you to England. Let me know, chevalier, before another word passes, returned she, whether I have a father? whether I have a mother? Thank God, madam, you have both, said [...]e. God, I thank thee! cried she, [...]ing up her hands. Had I not, distraction would have been my por­tion! If they had been no more, I should have thought myself the most detestable of parricides. They are in the utmost distress, rejoined he, for your safety; and will think themselves happy when they know that you are well, and in the possession of your brother Grandison. Will they, sir, cried she. O how strange! They so cruel, yet so indulgent!—I so dutiful, yet a fugitive! But determined as I was against entering into a state I had too much honour to enter with a re­luctant heart, could I have taken any [Page 150] other step to free myself from the cruelty of persuasion? Your consci­ence, madam, said he, is a law to you: if that accuses you, you will repent: if i [...] acquits you, who shall presume to condemn? Sir Charles then strove to raise her spirits by expatiating on the kind reception she would meet with among his friends. She then re­marked, that he forbore to mention the principal person among them, and asked, what his lady would think of the poor fugitive Clementina? desi­ring him to assure her, that she would not have landed in England, if he had not been married; addine, that should she render him and his lady unhappy, no person on earth could ha [...]e her so much as she should hate herself. Sir Charles assured her, that her happiness [...] really essential to that of them bo [...]: that his Harriot was another C [...]ment [...]a, whom she must know and love, for she was prepared to re­ceive her as the dearest of her sisters. Generous lady Grandison! said she, I have heard her character, and con­ [...]a [...]la [...]e you, sir, on your happiness: I should have been grieved, had you [Page 151] not met with a lady worthy of you▪ But my being sensible of your happi­ness, and that you do not blame me for declining your addresses, will con­tribute more to my peace of mind than I can express. When I have more courage, and this poor heart is eased of that part of its trouble, you shall present me to her. In the mean time tell her, that I will love her; and that I shall ever think myself under the highest obligations for making him happy, whom once, but for a superior motive, I had the vanity to think I could have made so. She here turned away her glowing face, bedewed with tears, while sir Charles's admiration of her greatness of mind, so like that of his own Harr [...]ot, kept him silent; but he at last persuading her to accept of an apartment at lady L—'s, she consented to go thither the next day. Sir Charles and his sister came the next morning, and after an affecting interview, took her away in lord L's coach. All the ladies of sir Charles's family strove who should most oblige the unhappy Clementina; and parti­cularly his lady, who had all along ad­mired [Page 152] her for her virtues, and noble magnanimity; and now treated her with the [...]ender affection of a beloved sister. Clementina had no [...] been long acquainted with the principal persons of this happy family, when sir Charles received a letter by an express from his dear friend the ba [...]one, to let him know, [...]he marquis and the mar­chioness, with several of their friends, were landed at Dover. Upon which he immediately set out with four coaches and six of his own and his friends, to accommod [...]e them and their attendants, he having before fit­ted up his house in Grosvener square for their reception. He had not long been gone, when the count of Belve­dere, who impatiently longed to hear news of Clementina, arrived with one of his friends, and were received by lady Grandison with all possible marks of respect: she let them know that she was safe and in good hands; but no arguments could prevail on her to in­form them where that lady was.

Sir Charles no sooner arrived at Dover▪ than he was received with in­expressible joy by the whole noble [Page 153] family: however, though he found them breathing nothing but reconcili­ation and love to their dear Clemen­tina, [...]e was determined to keep her concealed, [...]ill he was fully satisfied that her understanding could not be endangered, by her being [...]eazed to marry the c [...]unt of Belvedere.

Sir Charles conducted the family, by easy journ [...]es, to London, where he brought them to the house he had provided for their reception; and was agreeably surprized, on their arrival, at finding that his lady had, unknown to him, prepared an elegant repast. The marchioness was so impatient to see Clementina, that every one was afraid of the consequences, with re­spect to her health; and, on the other hand, the young lady was grieved at finding herself so situated, as to be obliged to cause her parents to enter into articles with her before she kneel­ed to them, which she longed to do, notwithstanding her dreading to see them. Sir Charles, by the desire of all parties, drew up a paper, copies of which were given both [...]o the prin­cipal persons of her family, and to [Page 154] Clementina; in which he proposed, that she should lay aside all thoughts of retiring to a convent, be allowed to choose her way of life, and her at­tendants: that her parents and bro­thers should promise never to per­suade her, much less to compel her to marry any man; and that the count of Belvedere should discontinue his ad­dresses. After some debate, the whole family consented to these articles: but the lady Clementina found the greatest difficulty in giving up her fa­vourite project of taking the veil; nor could the count of Belvedere, without the greatest agony of mind, submit to discontinue his pretensions. These precautions being taken, Clementina was to be introduced to her longing parents; but her dread of appearing before them made her entreat the lady Grandison and the lady L—to intro­duce and countenance her, by their presence; to which they willingly con­sented. At the time fixed for this af­fecting interview, sir Charles went to prepare her expecting parents, while the lady Grandison waited upon her▪ Clementina looking wild and disor­dered, [Page 155] and giving lady L—and lady Grandison her hand, was led to the coach: but at stepping in she trembled, and appeared much disturbed. They gave her all the comfort they were able, while the coach drove to Grosve­nor-square. On its stopping, sir Charles appeared, and seeing her emotion, it is kind, my dear sister, said he, to accompany the lady Cle­mentina—Your goodness will be re­warded by the pleasure of seeing the most gracious reception that ever in­dulgent parents gave to a long absent daughter. O Chevalier! was all Cle­mentina could say. He then told her that he would lead her into a drawing room, where she should see none but those who were with her. Visibly en­couraged, she gave him her trembling hand, and he led her in, followed by the two ladies, who seated themselves on each side of her, but with difficul­ty kept her from fainting, by their salts and so [...]hing: on her recovery a little, holding up her finger with wildness in her looks, she cast her eyes to the doors and windows, crying, hush! they will hear us: but soon coming more to [Page 156] herself, O cheval [...]er, said she, what shall I say? How shall I look? What shall I do? Am I, indeed, in the same house with my father, my mother, Je­ronym [...]? who else? who else? My dearest Clementina, said sir Charles, it is, from love and tenderness to you, agreed that you first only see your mo­ther, then your father, and at your own pleasure, your brothers, mrs. Beaumont, and father Maresco [...]t [...]. Your mamma, madam, who is all in­dulgence, is impatient to hold you to her heart. What joy will you give her! He offered his hand and she gave him hers, making a motion for the two ladies to come with her, and who followed her into the room, where was her expecting mother. They ran to each other with open arms. O my Clementina! O my mamma! was all they could utter: they sunk on the floor, the mother's arms about the daughter's [...]eck, the daughter's about the mother's waist. Sir Charles, lift­ing them up, seated them by each other. Pardon! pardon! pardon! cried Clementina, lifting up her hands and eyes, and sliding out of her [Page 157] mother's arms on her knees. The marquis, unable longer to contain himself, rushed in, crying, my daugh­ter! my child! my Clementina! do I once more see my child? Sir Charles then lifted her up, when her father entered, but she again sunk down pros­trate on the floor, with her arms ex­tended, crying, O father, forgive! forgive me. O my father! By sir Charles's assistance he raised her up, and seating her between himself and his lady, they both threw their arms about her; she in broken accents re­peating prayers for forgiveness, while they, in accents as broken, uttered their blessings.

When Clementina's first emotions were over, and she began to look up, she cried, behold, madam, behold, my lord, looking at lady L—, the hospitable lady with whom I have lived. Behold, looking at lady Gran­dison, a more than woman, an angel! She here seemed at a loss for words. We have before, said the marquis, seen and admired, in lady Grandison, the noblest of all women. He arose to approach the ladies, when sir Charles [Page 158] leading them both to him, Clementina first snatched lady Grandison's hand, and eagerly pressed it to her lip [...]; and then lady L—'s. Her heart was full, and she seemed unable to speak; when the two ladies, with their eyes overflowing with tears, congratulated the father, mother, and daughter.

The articles, signed and witnessed, were put into her hands a day or two after; when having written her name, she tore off the other names, and kiss­ing the torn b [...], put it in her bosom; then falling on her knees to her father and mother, who stood together, she presented the paper, crying, never let it be mentioned that your Clemen­tina has presumed to bind, by these articles, the dearest of parents. My name stands, and w [...]ll be a witness against me, if I break those I have signed: but in your forgiveness, my lord, in yours, madam, and in a thou­sand acts of indulgence, I have too much experienced your past goodness, to doubt the future. May God ena­ble your Clementina to be all you wish. Only indulge me in my choice of a single li [...]e, and your word is all [Page 159] the assurance I desire. They embra­ced her; then tenderly raising her, embraced her again.

This noble lady was not informed till the day before, that the count of Belvedere had accompanied her friends to England. Sir Charles made use of great precaution in telling her; and at the same time let her know, that the count was very desirous of taking his leave of her. She consent­ed to see him, as one of the friends of her father and brothers, and in that light deferred his departure; she had afterwards several conversations with him, and, before all her relations, behaved towards him with the respect due to his merit. She was sensible of the ardour with which her parents and brothers wished to see her married to that accomplished nobleman. She could not help observing the pleasure that sparkled in his eyes, whenever she was pleased to enter into discourse with him; and seriously considering their motives, with the extraordinary merit of the count, together with the reasons that had induced her to re­solve never to enter into the marriage [Page 160] state, she at length began to hesitate, and voluntarily promised her relations that if, within a year's time, she should find no reason to change her mind, she would chearfully comply with their wishes.

In short, this noble family staid se­veral months with sir Charles. Every opportunity was taken to render their residence in England as agreeable as possible, and on their taking their leave, sir Charles and his lady attend­ed them to Dover.

The next year, sir Charles and his lady went to Italy, where they were received by this noble family with transports of joy. They found Cle­mentina perfectly free from her un­happy disorder of mind. After having spent several months in Italy, sir Charles and his lady, in company with his brothers and sisters, return­ed to England, where they had the pleasure to resume their former plan of life. Their piety and virtue are the sources of the noblest pleasures that can fill the human mind.