ly overheard, between Murray and a youth who just then called upon him. My host seemed pressing his friend to return to supper. "Do come," said he, " and I will shew you an angel-the loveliest girl-" "Where? in this house?” "Yes, my

sister's governess. "Left to keep house for you? Eh? a good judicious arrangement, faith." "Hush-I assure you her manners are as correct as her person is beautiful ;-such elegance,-such modest vivacity, and then she sings! Oh Harry,

if

you did but hear her sing!" "Well I believe I must come and take a look of this wonder." "The wonder," thought I, "shall not be made a spectacle to idle boys, -nor remain in a situation of which even they can see the impropriety." I rang for the house-maid, and putting half-a-guinea into her hand, requested that she would direct me to reputable lodgings, and procure a hackney-coach to convey me thither. Both of these services she performed without delay; meanwhile, I went to take leave of my young host.

He heard of my intention with manifest

discomposure, and exerted all his eloquence to shake my purpose; intreating me at least to remain with him till he had seen Mrs St Clare; but I was more disposed to anger than to acquiescence, when I recollected that all his intreaties were intended to make me do what he himself felt to need disguise or apology. Finding me resolute, he next begged to know where he might bring Mrs St Clare to wait upon me; but suspecting that my apartments might not be such as I chose to exhibit, I declined this favour. I took, however, the lady's address, meaning to avail myself of her assistance in procuring employment.

CHAP. XX.

Lend me thy clarion, goddess! Let me try

To sound the praise of merit ere it dies;
Such as I oft have chanced to espy,

Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity.

SHENSTONE.

WITH

ITH a feeling of dignity and independence which had forsaken me in my more splendid abode, I took possession of an apartment contrived to serve the double purposes of parlour and bed-chamber. “I have done right," thought I, "whatever be the consequences; and these are in the hands of One who has given me the strongest pledge that he will overrule them for my advantage." Yet, alas for my folly! I was almost the next moment visited by the fear, that the advantage might not be pal

pable to present observation, and that it might belong more to my improvement than to my convenience.

I now felt no reluctance to address Mrs Murray, and to inquire, whether it were still her wish to receive me into her family. One circumstance alone embarrassed me; I plainly perceived, that I had already made such an impression upon Henry, as his mother was not likely to approve; and it seemed dishonourable to owe my admission into her family to her ignorance of that which she would probably deem sufficient reason to exclude me. I knew the world, indeed, too well, to expect that the passion of a youth of twenty, for a girl with a fortune of nine pounds three shillings, was itself likely to be either serious or lasting; but its consequences might be both, if it relaxed industry, or destroyed cheerfulness, darkening the sunny morning with untimely shade. But how could I forewarn my patroness of her danger? Could I tell her, not only that one day's acquaintance with her son had sufficed me to make the conquest, but, which was still less selon les regles, to dis

.

cover that I had made it? I dared not brave the smile which would have avenged such an absurdity. After some consideration, I took my resolution, I determined to introduce myself the next day to Mrs St Clare, who, I imagined, would not long leave her sister-in-law in ignorance of my personal attractions; for I have often observed, that we ladies, while we grudge to a beauty the admiration and praise of the other sex, generally make her amends by the sincerity and profuseness of our own.

"And if her description alarm Mrs Murray," thought I; "if it deter her from admitting me under the roof with her son, what then is to become of me ?-What will my pretty features do for me then?-What have they ever done for me, except to fill my ears with flatteries, and my mind with conceit, and the hearts of others with envy and malice. Maitland, indeed,—but noit was not my face that Maitland loved. Rather to the pride of beauty I owe that wretched spirit of coquetry by which I lost him. And now this luckless gift may deprive me of respectable protection and sub