 the Ladies Arun∣dell and Pembroke, any part of a secret which might affect, however remotely, his own safety. Bounded as our conver∣sations must of consequence be, the charm of attachment nevertheless seized upon our souls. Mine allied itself to Lady Pembroke, while yours equally inclined to her no less amiable sister, and each took pleasure in passing that portion of her time with the distinct favorite we did not spend together. Ah, here Matilda, I approach the appointed moment, when the paths of life, in which we have hitherto trod hand in hand, begin to separate; and every succeeding step bears us farther from each other, till darkness and distance rob the straining eye of its first dear ob∣ject.—In vain each now turns back, and seeks the accustomed path, a thousand various ones perplex the wearied mind; and while the impetuous passions drag us irresistibly onward, we give to the sweet

memory of early youth a thousand fond and hopeless sighs, then follow with trembling feet those ungovernable lead∣ers.
Lord Pembroke's partiality had long distinguished a noble youth the policy of Lord Leicester still kept abroad. I had seen many of his letters, through the me∣dium of Lady Pembroke; and my heart had learnt to flutter at the name of Essex, ere yet I beheld him. Alas, even while I repeat it, I own the same sensation!—Oh, love! exquisite delusion! captivating error! from the moment the lips find pleasure in that word, till they lose the power of pronouncing it, the charm, the inconceivable charm remains.—Whether cherished by the sunbeams of hope, or chilled by the dews of disappointment—Whether the chosen object is faithful, or unfaithful—glowing with animation be∣fore our eyes, or seared up in the dark and silent grave; the passion, the power∣ful passion asserts its eternal influence, and decides the character where it once has reigned. While I dwell on the mo∣ment

which called to being this finer and more poignant sense, sensibility, memory retraces its dear emotions with a softness time itself can never extinguish.
Tinctured with the partiality of Lord Essex's friends; already acquainted with his sentiments on heroism, glory, and every attachment, except that of the heart; I fondly flattered myself the day would come, when he would receive from me that last and liveliest passion which forms and finishes the human soul. I interwove myself insensibly in all his concerns; I deeply lamented the tie of relationship, which subjected his actions to the will of Lord Leicester; and employed some of the little time I spent with my Lord, in endeavoring to bias his mind in favor
