Mrs. Dormer, in whom my passionate complaints had raised a most sensible concern, could not resolve to leave me in that affliction; and therefore entreated me to stay in her chamber that night. As I knew my excessive grief would not suffer me to take any rest, I declined this offer, fearing I should disturb her; but she declaring she would not leave me, I chose rather to go with her than suffer her to stay out of her own apartment. But I spent the night without being able to close my eyes; nor could I receive any consolation from the affecting arguments she used to assuage my grief. Mr. Campbel, who had never failed to visit me every day, and whose concern for my governess was near equal to mine, came early in the morning to my lodgings) and, understanding Mrs. Blandon was dead, had waited some time in expectation of seeing me. I stole out of bed from Mrs. Dormer, who was asleep; and, when I was drest, went down stairs, in order to indulge my grief in my own room. The sight of Mr. Campbel renewed all my affliction: I melted into tears, and we continued for some moments in a moving silence. "Oh, my adored Harriot, said he, (with a voice interrupted with sighs) how does the tears that fall from those lovely eyes give unutterable pangs to my heart! Could it be any consolation to my charming angel to tell her, that I feel her affliction with more force than my own, she should know the load of anguish which oppresses me this moment." "I shall always think myself obliged to you, sir, replied I, for the interest you take in what concerns me. One in such a distressful situation as I am, can never set a sufficient value on a friend, who----." "Yes, miss, interrupted he, (eagerly) I glory in the title of your friend. My affection for you, tender and passionate as it is, takes in all the calmer qualities of friendship; and while I view your lovely person with the raptured eyes of a lover, as a friend your honor, your interest, and happiness, are dear to me as my own."

I should have been at a loss to reply to these generous sentiments, as I was not capable of making all the return they merited; had not the tender Mrs. Dormer broke in upon our conversation, and spared me the confusion of appearing ungrateful. "I am glad, miss, said she, (seeing Mr. Campbel) to find you are not alone. I was coming to seek you, fearing you was indulging your melancholy reflections by yourself." Mr. Campbel, to whom these instances of her friendly concern for me were highly acceptable, expressed the extreme pleasure it gave him in very obliging terms to Mrs. Dormer. She insisted upon my lover's coming with me into her apartment, and gave orders to be denied to all company that day, resolving, as she said, to devote it entirely to me.

My dear governess had settled all her little affairs exactly before she died, and had bequeathed me a very genteel present for a ring. I went into mourning for her immediately ; and, as soon as her funeral was over, accepted an invitation from Mrs. Dormer to spend some days with her at her country-house in Richmond.

Colonel F----, who now visited Lady Cecilia constantly, acquainted her with the death of my governess, and made my excuses for not waiting on her ladyship before I went out of town. As soon as I returned, I did not fail to pay my respects to her, and was received with the greatest testimonies of friendship. As I frequently spent whole days at her house, she took a pleasure in introducing me to her acquaintance; by which means I came to be generally known, and could have had an opportunity of strengthening my interest, by the addition of very powerful friends: but Lady Cecilia, resolving no one should interpose in an affair she had taken the management of, prevented any solicitations for a provision from the government for me, by declaring, in all companies, she would procure me an establishment herself.

I had wrote to my mother an account of all that had happened to me, and was expecting her answer, and another order upon the agent, which I began to want, when Mr. Campbel told me, he fancied it would be some time before I could receive another order from my mother; and, since the agent had so much money in his hands, he would not scruple to advance it, without having a bill drawn upon him; and begged I would allow him to call upon him, and make the request. I could not help blushing a little at his mentioning this affair, and would have gone myself to the agent; but he entreated so tenderly, that he might be allowed to manage this little business for me, that I suffered him to go alone, not without some fears that the gentleman would refuse to advance the money, and lay me under the necessity of applying to Lady Cecilia: for I had forgot to tell you, my dear Amanda, that she had frequently pressed me upon this subject, telling me, that she insisted upon furnishing me with what money I wanted, in case my remittances from my mother were too slow. Mr. Campbel, however, had received thirty pounds from the agent, and brought it to me, praising the politeness of that gentleman in very warm terms. I was startled at his receiving so large a sum, telling him, that as I expected a letter from my mother, in two months at farthest, much less would have done. And I was so apprehensive that my mother would be disobliged, that I mentioned some intention of going to the agent; but my lover begged me to be satisfied, acknowledging, after he had entreated my pardon for doing it without asking my leave, that he had given his note to the agent as a security, till he heard from N----.

I was inexpressibly confused at the thoughts of receiving such an obligation from a lover; and, when I reflected still more upon it, began to imagine there was some mystery concealed under Mr. Campbel's officious services on this occasion. I was determined, however, to know the truth; and, when my lover went away, I ordered a chair to be called, and went directly to the agent. That gentleman, not knowing me, inquired if I had any commands for him; upon which I told him my name. "I believe, miss, said he, I paid a bill some months ago upon your mother's order, and am sorry I can't oblige you with any more till I hear again from her." I had now discovered Mr. Campbel's artifice, to make me accept of the money he had brought; but not caring to let the agent understand any thing of the matter, I concealed the real design of my visit, and took my leave, after expressing some little resentment at his extreme caution.

Though I could impute this conduct of Mr. Campbel's to nothing but his anxiety, lest I should be straitened for money till I heard from my mother; yet I was absolutely determined not to accept of this obligation, whatever difficulties I might bring upon myself; and waited, with some impatience, for his next visit, that I might return the money. Mr. L---- had been with Mrs. Dormer while I was abroad; and, as soon as I returned, she sent to let me know she had some particular business with me. I went to her directly, and she gave me a letter with a smile of pleasure, telling me, that Mr. L---- had wrote it before her. I made an apology for breaking it open while I continued in the room, being impatient to know the contents, and found it as follows.

MADAM,
My brother begs leave you will accept of the enclosed bill for your present expenses; and, when your mother comes to England, he will settle all matters, relating to her expectations from her sister, entirely to her satisfaction. I am, &c.

In this laconic epistle there was enclosed a bank-bill for a hundred pounds, which was a very seasonable present, considering the resolution I had taken. Mrs. Dormer congratulated me on the prospect there was of Sir Edward's doing justice to our family: and, when I saw Mr. Campbel, I did not fail to acquaint him with it, telling him at the same time, I would give him the trouble to go to the bank and receive payment for this bill. I did not mention any thing concerning the stratagem he had used, till he had executed this commission; and then I insisted upon his keeping back thirty pounds, acknowledging my sense of the favor he had designed me, and his genteel manner of doing it. My lover was a little disconcerted at first; but he was too polite to insist any longer upon my accepting a sum I had now no occasion for: but methought I read in his eyes a tender concern, that he had lost an opportunity of being necessary to me.

My mind was just beginning to resume the tranquillity, which the loss of my governess had interrupted, when I received letters from my mother and sister, which acquainted me with the death of my beloved brother. This news, which was more dreadful than the stroke of death could have been, occasioned me a fit of illness, that lasted near two months. The physicians absolutely despaired of my recovery: the poignancy of my grief added force to my distemper. But, alas! my afflictions were not yet to have a period! I lived to suffer still more misfortunes.

As soon as I was in a condition to be moved, Mrs. Dormer took me to her country-house; and as she was now convinced of the ardent passion Mr. Campbel had for me, by his behavior during my illness, which had almost bordered upon distraction, she allowed him to visit me sometimes there.

Notwithstanding the endeavors of this amiable lady to amuse me, and keep off the sad reflections which continually tortured my imagination, I indulged a gloomy melancholy, which rendered me insensible to all her obliging cares. My dearest brother was never one moment from my thoughts. I wept incessantly: I wished for death; and found no other consolation, but in the hope of shortly following him to the grave. That you may have some idea, my dear friend, of the melancholy state of my mind, I have inserted the following little pieces, which were wrote under too great a pressure of spirits to have any other merit, than that of giving a true picture of the anguish that consumed me.

                  To Death. An Irregular Ode.

                                      I.

      Oh Death! thou gentle end of human pain,
            Why is thy stroke so long delay'd;
   Why to a wretch, who breathes but to complain,
            Do'st thou refuse thy welcome aid?
       Still wilt thou fly the plaintive voice of woe,
      And where thou'rt dreaded only aim the blow?

                                      II.

	Oh leave, fantastic tyrant! leave
      The young, the gay, the happy, and the free; 
             On them bestow a short reprieve, 
               And bend thy fatal shafts at me: 
       The beauteous bride, or blooming heir, 
               Let thy resistless power spare; 
          And aim at this grief-wounded heart, 
  That springs half way to meet the welcome dart.

                                      III.

           Still must I view, with streaming eyes, 
              Another, and another morn, arise? 
       Are my days lengthen'd to prolong my pain? 
              Enough of life's distress I've seen; 
          A finish'd wretch in youth's first bloom, 
            By early sorrow ripen'd for the tomb!


              An Evening Ode. 

                           I.

    How swift the shades of ev'ning rise, 
      And intercept the wand'ring sight; 
   While still, with ardent gaze, my eyes 
      Pursue the last faint streaks of light!

                           II.

  Ah me! the still, the silent gloom, 
     Adds greater force to my despair;
  With new disquiets fills my soul,
     And wakens every terror there.

                           III.

   'Tis now deep contemplation's hour; 
      The soul on reason's wings may rise, 
   All nature's boundless vast explore, 
      And, soaring, pierce beyond the skies.

                           IV.

   Ah! by what heavy clogs confin'd, 
     Thus sinks my grov'ling thoughts to earth!
   Why can't my free capacious mind
     Trace the great source that gave it birth?

                           V. 

   Alas! no ray of beaming light 
     In my afflicted breast is found;
   'Tis one continued endless night, 
     Dark as the awful gloom around. 

Ought I not to blush, my dear Amanda, to own, that it was in the power of love to moderate an affliction so just, so reasonable, as mine? Alas! my heart was still enslaved by this enchanting passion; and what all the efforts of the most perfect friendship had failed to do, a letter from the dear Dumont produced in an instant. It had been left at my lodgings by a private hand, and sent by the post to Richmond. A gleam of joy darted through my soul at the sight of those welcome characters: I opened it with a trembling impatience! But, ah! my friend, how shall I describe the ecstasy which in a moment took possession of my whole soul, when the first words that met my eyes informed me my beloved Dumont was now a protestant! I threw down the letter, in order to indulge the swelling transport, the soft excess of almost painful joy!

It was some time before my strong sensations would give me leave to read it through. He related with the utmost exactness the rise and progress of this change; and acknowledged, that his first design being to strengthen himself with arguments, in order to overthrow my principles, since he was fixed in his own; he applied himself to reading, with the greatest industry, the most famous books of controversy upon our two religions: but, to his great amazement and confusion, found, as he advanced, his faith begin to stagger. New and unthought of doubts disturbed his mind: his eagerness to inquire more deeply redoubled; a ray of truth, something like conviction, dawned upon his soul. He studied the New Testament with the utmost care; and the fine reasoning of the learned Chillingworth completed the conquest. "Let it not, my lovely angel, said he, (concluding his affecting account) make me appear unfashionably grave in your opinion, if I tell you that, while my faith was thus fluctuating and unsettled, I continually offered up my most ardent petitions to heaven, to direct my choice to that religion that was best. I have reason to believe my prayers were heard, and thoughlove was the first cause of my happy change, yet I am only a convert to reason and to truth." He added, that he was preparing to come to England with the next ships which sailed from N----; and ended his dear epistle with a thousand vows of everlasting passion.

When the first emotions of my joy were over, the remembrance of my beloved brother, rushing again upon my soul, seemed to reproach me for the transitory pleasure I had tasted. The two passions of grief and joy divided my heart between them; but my transports by degrees subsiding, my grief also grew less intense: and the violent despair, which for some time had wholly possessed me, was now (such was the force of successful love!) changed to a gentle melancholy, which did not hinder me from sometimes feeling a tender transport at the thoughts of being united for ever to my beloved Dumont.

At my return to town I waited on Lady Cecilia, whose obliging behavior drew several poetical compliments from me; amongst which I have transcribed the following ode for your entertainment.


                     To Flavia. 

                             I.

   If, Flavia, in thy faultless form 
      All that is heav'nly fair we find; 
   If ev'ry grace conspires to charm, 
      And speaks the beauties of thy mind:

                             II.

   Why shouldst thou wonder, lovely maid, 
     At the soft passions you inspire? 
   Why those to hopeless love betray'd, 
     Or these feel friendship's fire?

                             III.

   Heedless, thy charming eyes enslave, 
     Nor know the smiling deaths they dart; 
   Nought can the wretched gazer save, 
     Or rescue his devoted heart.

                             IV. 

   But, ah! to win the soul is more, 
     And friendship's noble fires impart, 
   The work of some diviner po'er, 
     While reason wings th' unerring dart.

                             V. 

   Let thy adorers justly praise
     The wond'rous beauties of thy face; 
   Extol thy charms a thousand ways, 
     And with thy name their numbers grace.

                             VI. 

   Friendship a nobler theme shall find, 
     And to the admiring world display 
   The graces that adorn thy mind, 
     A subject that will ne'er decay.

                             VII.

   When thy bright eyes shall cease to wound,
     And age thy fading charms embrace;
   When in thy looks no trace is found,
     Of what the lovely Flavia was:

                             VIII.

   The lasting beauties of thy mind
     The Muse in gentle strains shall sing;
   In thy fair soul new charms shall find,
     To raise her voice, and prune her wings.

Lady Cecilia was so pleased with the incense that my gratitude, for the friendship she honored me with, induced me to offer her, that she loaded me with caresses, and read my poems to all her acquaintance. But thoughshe herself had taken pains to force my little merit upon the observation of her friends, she began to grow uneasy at the flattering compliments that were paid me in her presence; and I could perceive an unusual coldness and constraint in her manner, which increased every visit I made her.

As she had for some time forbore to mention the settlement she had promised to procure for me at court, I began to think my expectations were but weakly grounded: but I was not capable of feeling much pain from this disappointment. The chief bar to my union with my dear Dumont being near removed, all my ambition was bounded within the single wish of becoming his. Lady Cecilia, however, had made so much noise about providing for me, that I could not imagine how she would excuse herself to the world. Alas! I was almost the only person in it, who was ignorant of this lady's peculiar talent, in procuring dependents, by her affected benevolence, whom she never designed to serve, and raising hopes she never intended to gratify. Had she been contented with only imposing upon my credulity, and added me to the number of those whom she had deceived, I should not have had much reason to complain: but she was capable of meditating the blackest designs against me, and of endeavoring to sacrifice my fame, to give a sanction to her base desertion. After some weeks of coldness and reserve, she, of a sudden, assumed an air of the tenderest friendship; and assured me one day, that she soon expected a vacancy of a very genteel place about one of the princesses, and that she had recommended me to it; adding, that though I was rather too young for such a public life, yet she was persuaded my merit would render me very conspicuous.

I have before observed to you, my dear Amanda, that I was apt to be carried away with appearances, and incapable of suspecting, or by consequence guarding against any attempts to deceive me. My suspicions of Lady Cecilia's sincerity vanished in a moment. She could, when she pleased, assume an air of so much sweetness and affability, as in one of her high rank carried a peculiar charm with it. "I am thinking, Miss Stuart, said she, (with inexpressible good humor) how to dispose of you agreeably for two or three months. My sister the countess of ---- is just come from her country-seat: one of her daughters is exactly of your own age, and her mamma would be infinitely pleased to have a companion for her of your exalted understanding. I have promised to propose it to you, as I think it will be an agreeable establishment, till you are better provided for." As this proposal appeared wholly calculated for my advantage, and I had naturally a fondness for living in the gaiety and hurry of the great world, I expressed my acknowledgments to Lady Cecilia for the favor she did me; and assured her I would, with great pleasure, accept of the offer she made me.

I was preparing to go some little time after this, when a servant came to inform Lady Cecilia that the countess was come. "I am extremely glad, said her ladyship to me, that my sister is here. I'll introduce you, miss, to her immediately." Saying this, she took me into the drawing-room, where the countess was; and, telling her I was that miss Stuart whom she heard her mention, this stately lady saluted me with more civility than I expected, from the harshness of her countenance and the extreme haughtiness of her air. I was surprised, however, in a few moments, to see her drop her supercilious behavior, and talk to me immediately in a style of the greatest familiarity and friendship. She repeated, in an obliging manner, the offers her sister had made me; and when I had assured her of my consent, was so impatient to have me come, that I could scarce prevail upon her to give me a few days to prepare myself. This time, however, was no more than necessary: I employed it in putting myself in a condition to make a very genteel appearance; and was at an expense upon that account, not at all proportioned to my present circumstances.

Mr. Campbel, to whom I had always preserved a distance in my behavior, which made him not dare to press me upon the subject of his passion, having indeed rightly conceived, that my sentiments for him did not exceed the bounds of friendship and esteem, no sooner heard of my design, than complaining, in very tender terms, to Mrs. Dormer, who interested herself greatly in his favor, he told her, he had now lost all hope of making any impression upon my heart; and frankly confessed, that he could not believe all the good-sense I was mistress of, could preserve me from being intoxicated with that life of grandeur and expense, into which I was going to be initiated.

Though a lover's fears might be pardonable upon this occasion, yet, when Mrs. Dormer related this conversation to me, I could not forbear expressing some little resentment. "However, miss, said she, you have other friends beside Mr. Campbel, who do not foresee any great advantages for you in this offer. Lady Cecilia's quality has not preserved her from very free reflections on her conduct. If one might believe the censorious world, she has had more than one intrigue. The countess does not escape; and, methinks, persons who lie under such unfavorable censures, are not very proper protectors for a young lady like you."

Though I was convinced Mrs. Dormer's friendship for me made her express herself thus freely, yet still I was inclined to believe her reflections were rather too severe. I will not pretend to say it was my good-nature alone, which dictated a contrary opinion of Lady Cecilia: we always find a great facility in believing what we wish; and it was at present so much my interest to think well of that lady, that I could not persuade myself to search for reasons to lessen my esteem.

Mrs. Dormer, when she saw me preparing to go into the chair, which I had ordered to be called to carry me to the countess's, gave me a very affectionate embrace, telling me at the same time, that she feared I should repent taking this step. I thanked her for her generous concern; but was no farther affected with it, than as it gave me a stronger idea of her friendship.

I just came to the countess's when Lady Cecilia was getting into her chair: as soon as she saw me, she cried out, with a sort of satisfaction in her looks and accent, "Oh, are you come, my dear! I am excessively glad I happened not to be gone: I'll introduce you to my niece myself." I followed her ladyship into the drawing-room, and was received by a young lady, who seemed to be about seventeen years of age. Her aspect had something so soft and agreeable in it, that I was immediately prepossessed in her favor. Lady Cecilia, having said all that was necessary to make us acquainted, hurried again into her chair; and the countess coming in a moment after, seemed excessively pleased to find me there.

I spent some weeks in a continual round of diversions, which could not fail of having charms for one of my gay temper. There being always deep play in the countess's drawing-room two or three times a week, Lady Louisa, her daughter, who had a taste that way, was always engaged in cards: and as I never had any inclination for this amusement, I usually spent the evenings, that were devoted to it, in the nursery; where there were two young ladies, within a year or two as old as myself, and a little enchanting creature of six years old, who was a miracle of wit and beauty. The young viscount of ----, the eldest son of this family, made one in our little parties above stairs; and I so insensibly accustomed myself to stay there, that, by degrees, I found myself totally forgotten, and looked upon as an inmate of the nursery. This surprising change in the behavior of the countess and Lady Cecilia, who, thoughshe visited there every day, had left off even inquiring after me, gave me so sensible a mortification, that I was resolved to come away immediately; and acquainted Mrs. Dormer with my reasons for taking such a resolution. "I told you, miss, said she, that you would repent your going to the countess's. I see plainly the scheme of Lady Cecilia and her sister: they want to give you some disgust, in order to force you to leave them abruptly. By this means Lady Cecilia will be freed from the obligation she has laid herself under to procure you a settlement at court, and have an opportunity of prejudicing you in the opinion of the world, who will be easily persuaded to think you have been very ungrateful to your benefactress. Let me advise you then, to stay the time you had at first intended, and disappoint the design they have certainly laid against you." I was the more inclined to take Mrs. Dormer's advice, as Lady Louisa and myself were in perfect good intelligence; and, besides, I had conceived so strong a resentment at Lady Cecilia's ungenerous behavior, that I fancied to myself an extraordinary pleasure in breaking her measures, and forcing her to act without disguise.

You must not imagine, my dear Amanda, though I had but few opportunities of extending my conquests, that my eyes were entirely idle. During my short stay at the countess's, I had numbered two adorers in my train, who, as inconsiderable as I thought them, were still capable of doing me a great deal of mischief. A young foreigner, with no other advantage than a very genteel figure, and a tolerable birth, had been received into the family in the quality of governor to the young viscount. I could never hear he had any other recommendation to her ladyship's favor, than those accidental advantages I have mentioned, but the additional one of having fled his country for a murder: a circumstance, which, far from inspiring horror, had produced in the countess a great opinion of his bravery; and, possibly, was the cause of the respect and deference with which he was treated. As improbable as this may appear, yet it was only one of those whims, for which this great lady was eminently distinguished; and much of a piece with that which made her raise one of the lowest of her female domestics to a place in the house, of great trust and consequence, immediately after her lying-in of a base-born child. Mr. Repoli, for that was the name of the viscount's governor, was vain of his personal accomplishments, even to insolence. He fancied no woman ever looked on him without being captivated, and, in consequence of this opinion, carried something so assuming and confident in his air, that it was easy to discover how much his attention was fixed upon his dear self, and that he was triumphing in the conscious pleasure of giving love to all that beheld him. This ridiculous fellow afforded me a good deal of diversion, as I had often opportunities of observing it in its full extent. The young viscount, who coated on his governor, brought him every evening into the young ladies apartment, where I generally was; and I very soon had the pleasure of making this Narcissus admire another face besides his own.

As it was never a part of my character to be offended with any homage that was paid to my charms, I suffered the ardent glances of Repoli without any appearance of dislike; and while he expressed his passion only by sighs and looks, and those little officious assiduities which newborn affection suggests, I contemplated with pleasure the effects of my power on a heart, which before had been only filled with the enchanting emotions of self admiration. But as it is the nature of love to inspire timidity and respect, the haughty Repoli, awed by the distance of my behavior, (for, in spite of his embroidery, I could consider him only in the character of an upper domestic) did not presume to acquaint me with his sentiments. And while his passion for me was the subject of conversation to almost every one in the house, I only, to avoid the mortification of such unworthy addresses, affected to be ignorant of it.

Fortune, or rather love, presented me at the same time another votary, in whom I had a very formidable rival: no less than the countess herself. You may imagine perhaps, my dear Amanda, that the lover I speak of was a nobleman of the first rank, and that the countess was a widow, and at liberty to avow her affection: however, nothing of this was the case. Her ladyship had a very fond husband, who had so perfect a complaisance for her, as never to oppose her will in any thing. Possibly, indeed, he acted wisely in this respect; for it was better to resign his authority tamely, than have it wrested out of his hands; her ladyship being, next to Lady Cecilia her sister, the highest-spirited woman of quality in England. The lover, then, which my unfortunate eyes procured me, and in whom her ladyship claimed a prior right, was no other than the chaplain, a young smooth-faced boy, who had been taken from Westminster-school to fill up this sacred office in the family, in which he was considered as one of the principal persons. My lord himself was so extremely fond of his company, that he would often drink, tête à tête, a bottle with him before he went to bed; and my lady would sit two or three hours alone with him afterwards, discoursing, no doubt, upon religious matters; for thoughthe young chaplain had no great appearance of sanctity, yet her ladyship was fond of being reckoned very devout.

My temper was too much turned to gaiety, not to be excessively diverted with the absurd addresses of this young reverend. He had studied poetry and plays more than divinity; and was always repeating, with an affected emphasis, some rhapsody from the most celebrated dramatic performances. With this immoderate passion for theatrical flights, you may be sure the language of love was always bombast in his mouth, and therefore I was generally addressed in the stile of Alexander the Great. "Oh, my Statira! Oh, my angry Dear!" As I knew nothing mortified him more than to consider him in the light of a clergyman, I always affected to be more than ordinarily grave when he was with me, and generally turned the discourse upon religious subjects. Thus, when he as declaiming on some particular beauties in his favorite writings, poetry or plays, I assumed a serious air, and talked of sermons and homilies; and while he enlarged on the merit of Otway and Rowe, among the dramatic poets, to me, I recommended the study of Tilloton and Barrow, among the preachers, to him. He had too much penetration not to see that I diverted myself at his expense; and, finding my heart impenetrable to him, concluded it must be possessed by somebody else. In this, indeed, he was not mistaken. The united charms of the whole sex, would not have been able to rob my dear Dumont of one single wish: but why do I say the united charms! Was not the person of my Dumont loveliness itself? Alas! how little could I boast of my fidelity in preserving entire my tenderness for him, who had given me such exalted proofs of the sublimity of his passion!

The chaplain having observed the affection Repoli had for me, concluded I could not be insensible of his merit; and was so piqued at my fancied preference of this foreigner, that he would often rally me before him on my inclinations. My resentment at a suspicion, which my pride thought so injurious, discovered itself in strewing the utmost contempt for him. But Repoli, conceiving some hopes from the chaplain's insinuations, which his vanity improved into a settled belief that I really loved him, began to wear less constraint in his behavior, and filled me with perpetual dread, lest he should take the liberty to declare himself.