 my Emily's conduct? when I would have fallen at her feet, and implored her to forgive my having made her miserable, she caught me in her arms, with that modest sensibility, which accompanies her every action, and said that all the misery she had ever suffered, arose from considering herself as the fatal, though innocent cause of my unhappiness.
THAT she should ever be truly grateful for the pains I had taken to prevent her being wretched, by endeavouring to conceal a passion which she was sure it was as impossible for me to conquer, as it had been to disguise.
THAT she had long known of my attachment to the marchioness, and that her utmost wish for many months past, was to be considered as my first friend; that she should never make an improper use of my confidence, but that her utmost tenderness should be exerted to sooth the sorrows,

which she could not heal.—A flood of tears opposed her farther utterance.
I TOOK that opportunity of assuring her, that it was in her power, and hers alone to render me the happiest of men.
SHE wiped away her tears, and gazed on me, with looks of joy and doubt. Let not your kindness, said she, tempt you to deceive me. I feel too well, the impossibility of conquering a fond, a real passion! but I will strive, my lord.
I CAUGHT her trembling hand, and pressed it to my lips. O no! I cried, my Emily! my love! indulge your virtuous fondness, and deeply as my heart appears to be indebted to you, like a poor bankrupt, it shall give its all though it can never pay you what it owes—She quickly exclaimed, O I am overpaid in this blessed moment, for years of misery! your heart! but can you give it? is it yours, my lord?—No, Emily! unworthy as it is, it is already yours, and shall be ever so.
TEARS and embraces closed this charming scene; and now with truth, my Seymour, can I boast I never knew what heart-felt rapture was before that hour.
THE conferring happiness, on any creature, is certainly the highest enjoyment, of any human mind; but the paying it to an amiable, and deserving object, must heighten the sentiment, even to transport.
SIR James Thornton has been obliged to return to England, on account of a law-suit. He purposed keeping himself concealed, but upon hearing of mine, or rather my Emily's illness, he posted down from London, to
