, or should not become her sister.
AS I found captain Barnard's return was still protracted by his father's ill health, and many other reasons, that did not appear to me sufficient, I began to be uneasy at my situation.—A single wowan, without friends, or relations, in such a place as Paris, was, by no means, in an eligible state.—I had some acquaintance, and those of distinction, who received me on lady Anne's account, without inquiring into the motives of my stay: but I felt a consciousness, that their civilities were more the effect of politeness, than esteem, which rendered me unhappy; and I wrote to captain Barnard, requesting his permission to return to England, if he did not intend to come to Paris immediately.
MY letter lay sealed, and directed, on my dressing-table, when lord N— came to make me a visit; and casting his eyes on the letter, said, I might spare myself the trouble of sending it to the post-office, as he had that moment, met captain Barnard, in a very fine equipage. My heart sunk in me, at this news.—Yet I still flattered myself, that lord N— might mistake some other person for him, and was earnest in persuading his lordship, that he was deceived, when the captain's servant brought me the following card.

"IF lady Harriet H— will be at home, and alone this evening, captain Barnard will, if agreeable, do himself the honour of waiting on her, at six o'clock."


THE surprize I had been in before was augmented by this extraordinary message. I, however, sent word I should be glad to see him; and passed the intermediate hours in endeavouring to prepare myself for that fatal change, which was already but too visible, but which I was utterly unable to account for.
AT the appointed time, he came, and endeavoured to assume a sort of formal tenderness, accompanied with an air of gravity, and mystery. I could not long endure such a cruel state of suspense, and pressed to know what it was that affected him? he told me, he was the most miserable man breathing, that all his schmes of happiness were blasted, but that he never could have resolution to tell me, how they were so—called me, dear, suffering angel! kissed my hand and wept.—
I CANNOT describe the emotion of my heart; I longed, yet feared, to know what all this meant; and, at length, told
