's Abbey, and embrace the daughters of his love. You were a twelvemonth old when I conducted the Duke in the night to this Recess. The captivity and sad situation

of his wife arose a thousand times more strongly to his mind when he beheld her children torn from her bosom as if the product of dishonour, and hid in solitude from every human eye; to see, and know he could not prevent this, pierced him to the very soul. He spent the night in viewing you, in recommending you to Heaven, in forming a thousand silent complaints against his destiny, and resolutions, which by shortening his life, perpetuated on you the evils he sought to remedy. But when the dawn of day compelled him to return to his apartment, he again took you both into his arms, and while the tears of paternal affection flowed gracefully down his cheeks, poured on you a thousand blessings; he then gave you to me, and while I was stilling Ellinor, he sat in a deep reverie, when suddenly starting from it, he came and stood by me, and taking my hand—
"I have yet hopes, my dear Mrs. Marlow, said he, of bringing these infants into life, as the daughters of the loveliest, the most amiable of sovereigns; till when, I

commit them to you, as the most sacred of all deposits. Teach them to enjoy an humble rank, and they will adorn a high one; keep them in total ignorance of their birth till able to know its inutility. But if Heaven never allows me to claim them, —if the misfortunes of their parents end but with their lives, act up to the sacred character with which I alike invest you and my sister. Never let them know the Court of Elizabeth, but innocently and happily let them die in the desert where they bloomed."
"Shades of the honored Howard and the amiable Mary, I have fulfilled your injunctions, exclaimed Mrs. Marlow, (turning with an enthusiastic action to the pictures I have mentioned with so much respect) your words have been ever present to my memory, and my cares have not been useless."
"Alas, Madam, said we, dropping with an emotion of awe on our knees, are these lovely figures the portraits of our parents? Oh! my father, my tender unhappy father! shall we never, see you? Were we never to

be held in you arms but while insensible of that blessing? And you, my dear mother, who brought us forth in bitterness and pain, shall we not spend our lives in
