it do me harm? Anne tells me, it will; and fays, I muft break myfelf of it. She fays, it is not pretty in a young Lady to figh: But where is the un-prettiness of it? Sighing is faid to be a fign of being in Love; and young Ladies Ah! madam! And yet you figh, very often- loften catch myself fighing, my dear, faid I. It is a trick, as you call it, which I would not have you learn. But I have reafon for fighing, madam; which you have not-Such a mother! A mother that I wanted to be good, not fo much to me, as to herself: A mother fo unhappy, that one must be glad to run away from her. My poor pappa! fo good as he was to every-body, and even to her, yet had his heart broken-O madam!-(flinging her arms about me, and hiding her face in my bofom) Have I not caufe to figh? I wept on her neck; I could not help it: So dutifully fenfible of her calamity! and for fuch a calamity, who could forbear? Such a difgrace too! faid fhe, raifing her head. Poor woman-Yet fhe has the worst of it. Do you think that that is not enough to make one figh? Amiable goodness! (kiffing her cheek) I shall love you too well. You are too good to me: You must not be fo good to me: That, even that, will make me figh. My guardian's goodness to me gives me pain; and I think, verily, I figh more fince laft I left Mrs. Lane, and have feen more of his goodnefs, and how every-body admires, and owns obligation to, him, than I did before. To have a ftranger, as one may fay, and fo very fine a gentleman, to be fo good to one, and to have fuch an unhappy mother-who gives him fo much trouble-how can one help fighing for both reafons? Dear Dear girl! faid I, my heart overflowing with compaffion for her, you and I are bound equally, by the tie of gratitude, to esteem him. Ah, madam! you will one day be the happiest of all women-And so you deferve to be. What means my Emily? Don't I fee, don't I hear, what is defigned to be brought about by Lord and Lady L. and Mifs Grandifon? And don't I hear from my Anne, what every body expects and wishes for ? And does every-body expect and wifh, my EmilyI ftopped. She went on. And don't I fee that my guardian himself loves you? Do you think fo, Emily? O how he dwells upon your words, when you fpeak! You fanfy fo, my dear. You have not obferved his eyes fo much as I have done, when he is in your company. I have watched jour eyes, too; but have not seen that you mind him quite fo much as he does you.-Indeed he loves you dearly. And then the fighed again. But why that figh, my Emily?-Were I fo happy as you think, in the efteem of this good man, would you envy me, my dear? Envy you!-I, fuch a fimple girl as I, envy you! No, indeed. Why fhould I envy you?-But tell me now; dear madam, tell me; Don't you love my guardian Every-body does. You, my Emily, love him. And fo I do: But you love him, madam, with a hope that no one elfe will have reason to entertain— Dear now, place a little confidence in your Emily: My guardian fhall never know it from me, by the leaft hint. I beg you will own it. You can't think how you will oblige me. Your confidence in me will give me importance with myself. Will you, Emily, be as frank-hearted with me, as you would have me be with you? Indeed I will. I do, my dear, greatly efteem your guardian. Efteem! Is that the word? Is that the Ladies word for Love? And is not the word Love, a pretty word for women? I mean no harm by it, I am sure. And I am fure you cannot mean harm: I will be fincere with my Emily. But you must not let any one living know what I fay to you of this nature. I would prefer your guardian, my dear, to a king, in all his glory. And fo, madam, would I, if I were you. I fhould be glad to be thought like you in every-thing. Amiable innocence! But tell me, Mifs Jervois, Would you not have me efteem your guardian? You know he was my guardian too, and that at an exigence when I moft wanted one. Indeed I would. Would you have me wish such a good young Lady, as Mifs Byron, to be ungrateful ? No, indeed. And again fhe fighed. Why then fighed my Emily? You faid you would be frank-hearted. So I will, madam. But I really can't tell why I fighed then. I wish my guardian to be the happieft man in the world: I wish you, madam, to be the happiesft woman: And how can either be fo, but in one another?-But I am grieved, I believe, that there. feems to be fomething in the way of your mutual happiness-I don't know whether that is all, neitherI don't know what it is-If I did, I would tell youBut I have fuch throbs fometimes at my heart, as make me fetch my breath hard-I don't know what it is-Such a weight here, as makes me figh; and I have a pleasure, I think, because I have an ease in fighing What can it be?— Go on, my dear: You are a pretty defcriber. D guardian .e guardian came hither, was to run up ftairs, in an hurry; and to fay, Mifs, Mifs, Mifs, your guardian is come! I fhould be in fuch a flutter! my heart would feem to be too big for my bofom! I fhould fit down as much out of breath, as if I had ran down an high hill. And, for half an hour, may be, fo tremble, that I fhould not be able to fee the dear guardian that perhaps I had wanted to fee. And to hear him with a voice of gentleness, as if he pitied me for having fo unhappy a mother, call me his Emily.Don't you think he has a fweet voice?And your voice, too, madam, is alfo fo fweet-Every-body fays, that even in your common fpeech your voice is melody.-Now Anne fays O my agreeable little flatterer! I don't flatter, madam. Don't call me a flatterer. I am a very fincere girl: Indeed I am. I dare fay you are: But you raife my vanity, my dear. It is not your fault to tell me what people fay of me; but it is mine to be proud of their commendations-But you were going to tell me what Anne fays, on your being fo much affected, when she tells you in an hurry that your guardian is come? Why Anne fays, That all thofe are figns of Love. Foolish creature!And yet fo they may: But not of fuch Loye as fhe means. Such a Love as fhe as good as owns he had in her days of flutteration, as the whimfically calls them; which, as the explains it, were when he was two or three years older than I am. In the first place, I am very young, you know, madam; a mere girl: And fuch a fimple thing!-I never had a mother, nor fifter neither; nor a companion of my own fex.-Mrs. Lane's daughters, what were they?-They looked upon me as a child as I was. In the next place, I do love my guardian, that's true; but with as much reverence, as if he were my father. I never had a thought that had not that deep, that profound reverence for him, as I remember I had for my father. But But you had not, my dear, any of thofe flutters, thofe throbs, that you fpoke of, on any returns of your father, after little abfences? Why, no; I can't fay I had. Nor, tho' I always rejoiced when my guardian came to fee me at Mrs. Lane's, had I, as I remember, any fuch violent emotions, as I have had now of late. I don't know how it is-Can you tell me ? Do you not, Luey, both love and pity this sweet girl? My dear Emily-These are symptoms, I doubtSymptoms of what, madam ?-Pray tell me fincerely. I will not hide a thought of my heart from It would be Love, I doubt. That fort of Love that would make you uneafy No; that cannot be, furely. Why, madam, at that rate, I fhould never dare to ftand in your prefence. Upon my word, I with no one in the world, but you, to be Lady Grandifon. I have but one fear And what is that? That my guardian won't love me fo well, when he marries, as he does now. Are you afraid that the woman he marries will endeavour to narrow fo large an heart as his ? No; not if that woman were you. But, forgive my folly! (and fhe looked down) he would not take my hand fo kindly as now he does: He would not' look in my face with pleafure, and with pity on my mother's account, as he does now: He would not call me his Emily: He would not befpeak every one's regard for his ward. My dear, you are now almost a woman. He will,' if he remain a fingle man, foon draw back into his heart that kindness and love for you, which, while yo |