, does not raise a blush for the unconquerable weakness it confesses.
This affecting conversation, to which tears on my sister's part and mine were the only interruption, and which made the eyes of our dear and amiable Lady

Aubrey overflow with a bitterness that almost wholly exhausted her, terrified me with the apprehension of her sinking wholly under her agitations. I entreated her to defer for the present all further discourse on this subject, and to allow of our leaving her. But to this she would not be persuaded to consent. My sorrows have been of such a nature, said she, that all communication of them is impossible; and confidence, a solace which except with my dear deceased friend Madam de St. Hillaire, I never could enjoy. A painful mixture of shame and pride, encreased perhaps by early prosperity and indulgence, sealed my lips, and confined my sufferings to my own solitary and desolated bosom; how then can my children, my dear children, (repeated she, folding us alternately in her arms) deny me the satisfaction of giving vent to griefs in which their sympathetic hearts must feel a generous concern.

You may believe, Sophia, we returned the kind caresses of this amiable friend with all the enthusiastic warmth which a conduct so amiable, so truly great, could not fail to excite in circumstances so singularly interesting.
Lady Aubrey then proceeded to inform us, that Mr. Benseley had minutely acquainted her with all our intended schemes, and had with his usual kindness voluntarily promised, should his declining health permit of such a journey, to pay her a visit in the course of the following summer, attended by his wards; to whom this angelic woman was to have been personally introduced as a lady who honored him with singular marks of friendship and regard, but without the slightest hint of any secret connection.
To this soothing scheme, said Lady Aubrey, which I had been unceasingly revolving in my mind how to accomplish, I returned a most grateful and glad

assent, and requested to know at what time you were expected in England. But alas! to this letter I received no answer. I wrote another, and was informed by a relation, who had opened it after Mr. Benseley's decease, that the worthy man was no more. It is not easy to express the anguish and disappointment I experienced on hearing this dismal intelligence. Tho' inured to mortification and regret, I found I had yet much to undergo ere I became callous to their attacks. This blow, by overturning the sole favorite plan on which I had built any remaining hopes of comfort
