, Madam, than you yet know of; but if you will be my

friend, indeed—Alas! I have no other! and conceal what is past, from my uncle, I will tell you all my folly, and submit my future conduct to your direction."
—I gave her every possible assurance that the tenderest friendship could suggest, and I know not which of us was most agitated during this scene—She owned her having lent my picture to Lord Lucan, at his most earnest intreaty, on condition that he should give her his; that he had kept his promise, but that she had been so unfortunate as to lose his gift; and that she had lived in perpetual apprehension, ever since, lest any accident might betray this act of indiscretion to her uncle, or to me.—But that she still more dreaded its injuring Lord Lucan, by raising a suspicion of his being her lover, when heaven, and she could tell, he had not such a thought!


Her colour rose to crimson, as she pronounced the last sentence with clasped hands and streaming eyes—I never beheld a more animated figure.—Generous Harriet! I said softly to myself, and my heart reverberated the sound—What pains has it cost her to defend the fidelity of the man she loves, to her rival!—Yes, Fanny, I will emulate the virtue I admire; every effort of my life shall be exerted to promote Harriet's happiness, and from that pure and unsullied source I will endeavour to derive my own!
I confess I am pleased at being able to acquit Lord Lucan of the indiscretion of having made a confidante; his picture must have fallen into the hands of Colonel Walter, when Harriet lost it, and the vile artful wretch contrived to place

it as a snare for me, and watched the moment.
How to recover it for the innocent owner, is now the question? I cannot think of any prudent, and therefore possible means, of effecting this, at present. I can neither ask it as a favour, with a safe condescension, nor demand it as a right, without danger.
The variety of distressful subjects with which my late letters have been filled, have so much engrossed my thoughts while writing to you, that I have never mentioned a circumstance which has given me sincere satisfaction, the recovery of Mr. Creswell, Lucy Leister's lover—His father is since dead, by which he is now become Sir Harry Creswell—Ma chere amie

est au comble de ses voeux, but delays the completion both of her own and her lover's happiness, till I am able to be present
