his house after his aunt's decease. By that lady's will, she was entitled to a legacy of six hundred pounds; by means of this sum she had formed a scheme, which, though it would reduce her to a state very different from the ease and affluence of her former circumstances, might yet secure her from the irksomeness of dependence, or the accusation of impropriety: this was, to appropriate two-thirds of the interest of her capital to the payment of an annual sum for her board with Mrs Wistanly.

It was now that Bolton felt the advantage of independence, from the hopes of being useful to Lucy; but he had her delicacy to overcome: she would not throw herself, at this moment of necessity, into the arms of a man whom fortune had now placed above her. She adhered to her first resolution.

But the kindness of Sir Thomas Sindall rendered it unnecessary; for, a short time after Mrs Selwyn's death, when Miss Sindall communicated to him her intention of leaving his house, he addressed her in the following terms: "I have always looked upon you, Miss Lucy, as a daughter, and, I hope, there has been no want of tenderness or attention, on the side of my aunt or myself, to have prevented you regarding us as parents. At the same time, I know the opinions of the world; mistaken and illiberal as they often are, there is a deference which we are obliged to pay them; in your sex the sense of decorum should be ever awake; even in this case, I would not attempt to plead against its voice; but i hope I have hit on a method which will perfectly reconcile propriety and convenience. There is a lady, a distant relation of our family, whom a marriage, such as the world terms imprudent, banished in early life from the notice or protection of it; but, though they could refuse their suffrage to the match, they could not controul its happiness; and, during the life of Mr Boothby, (for that was her husband's name,) she experienced all the felicity of which wedlock is susceptible. Yet on her husband's death, which happened about five years after their marriage, the state of his affairs was found to be such, that she stood but too much in need of that assistance which her relations denied her. At the time of her giving the family this offence, I was a boy; and I scarce ever heard of her name till I was apprised of her misfortunes. Whatever services I have been able to do her, I have found repaid by the sincerest gratitude, and improved to the worthiest purposes. Upon the late event of my aunt's death, I was naturally led to wish her place supplied by Mrs Boothby; she has done me the favour to accept of my invitation, and I expect her here this evening. Of any thing like authority in this house, Miss Lucy, you shall be always independent; but I flatter myself, she has qualities sufficient to merit your friendship." Lucy returned such

an answer as the kindness and delicacy of this speech deserved; and it was agreed, that, for the present, her purpose of leaving Bilswood should be laid aside.

In the evening the expected lady arrived; she seemed to be about the age of fifty, with an impression of melancholy on her countenance, that appeared to have worn away her beauty before the usual period: some traces, however, still remained, and her eyes, when they met the view of the world, which was but seldom, discovered a brilliancy not extinguished by her sorrow.

Her appearance, joined to the knowledge of her story, did not fail to attract Miss Sindall's regard: she received Mrs Boothby with an air, not of civility, but friendship; and the other shewed a sense of the obligation conferred on her, by a look of that modest, tender sort, which equally acknowledges and solicits our kindness.

With misfortune a good heart easily makes an acquaintance. Miss Sindall endeavoured, by a thousand little assiduities, to shew this lady the interest she took in her welfare. That reserve, which the humility of affliction, not an unsocial spirit, seemed to have taught Mrs Boothby, wore off by degrees; their mutual esteem increased as their characters opened to each other; and, in a short time, their confidence was unreserved, and their friendship appeared to be inviolable.

Mrs Boothby had now the satisfaction of pouring the tale of her distresses into the ear of sympathy and friendship. Her story was melancholy, but not uncommon; the wreck of her husband's affairs by a mind too enlarged for his fortune, and an indulgence of inclinations laudable in their kind, but faulty in relation to the circumstances of their owner.

In the history of her young friend's life, there were but few incidents to communicate in return. She could only say, that she remembered herself, from her infancy, an orphan, under the care of Sir Thomas Sindall and his aunt; that she had lived with them in a state of quiet and simplicity, without having seen much of the world, or wishing to see it. She had but one secret to disclose in earnest of her friendship; it faltered for some time on her lips; at last she ventured to let Mrs Boothby know it-her attachment to Bolton.

From this intelligence, the other was led to an inquiry into the situation of that young gentleman. She heard the particulars I have formerly related, with an emotion not suited to the feelings of Miss Sindall; and the sincerity of her friendship declared the fears which her prudence suggested.

She reminded Lucy of the dangers to which youth and inexperience are exposed, by the sudden acquisition of riches; she set forth the many disadvantages of early independence; and hinted the inconstancy of attachments, formed in the period of romantic enthusiasm, in the

scenes of rural simplicity, which are afterwards to be tried by the maxims of the world, amidst the society of the gay, the thoughtless, and the dissipated. From all this followed conclusions, which it was as difficult as disagreeable for the heart of Lucy to form it could not untwist those tender ties which linked it to Bolton; but it began to tremble for itself and him.

CHAP. XIII.

Certain opinions of Mrs Boothby.—An attempt to account for them.

FROM the particulars of her own story, and of Bolton's, Mrs Boothby drew one conclusion common to both; to wit, the goodness of Sir Thomas Sindall. This, indeed, a laudable gratitude had so much impressed on her mind, that the praises she frequently bestowed on him, even in his own presence, would have savoured of adulation to one, who had not known the debt which this lady owed to his beneficence. Lucy, to whom she would often repeat her eulogium of the Baronet, was ready enough to own the obligations herself had received, and to join her acknowledgments to those of her friend. Yet there was a want of warmth in her panegyric, for which Mrs Boothby would sometimes gently blame her; and one day, when they were on that subject, she remarked, with a sort of jocular air, the difference of that attachment which Miss Sindall felt, in return for so much unwearied kindness as Sir Thomas had shewn her, and that which a few soft glances had procured to the more fortunate Mr Bolton.

Miss Sindall seemed to feel the observation with some degree of displeasure; and answered, blushing, that she considered Sir Thomas as a parent, whom she was to esteem and revere, not as one for whom she was to entertain any sentiments of a softer kind.

"But suppose," replied the other, "that he should entertain sentiments of a softer kind for you."-"I cannot suppose it."-"There you are in the wrong; men of sense and knowledge of the world, like Sir Thomas, are not so prodigal of unmeaning compliment as giddy young people, who mean not half of what they say; but they feel more deeply the force of our attractions, and will retain the impression so much the longer, as it is grafted on maturity of judgment. I am very much mistaken, Miss Lucy, if the worthiest of men is not your lover."-" Lover! Sir Thomas Sindall my lover!"-"I profess, my dear, I cannot see the reason of that passionate exclamation; nor why that man should not be entitled to love you, who has himself the best title to be beloved."-" I may reverence Sir Thomas Sindall; I may admire his goodness; I

VOL. V.

will do any thing to shew my gratitude to him; but to love him-good heavens!"

"There is, I know," rejoined Mrs Boothby, "a certain romantic affection, which young people suppose to be the only thing that comes under that denomination. From being accustomed to admire a set of opinions, which they term sentimental, opposed to others, which they look upon as vulgar and unfeeling, they form to themselves an ideal system in those matters, which, from the nature of things, must always be disap→ pointed. You will find, Miss Sindall, when you have lived to see a little more of the world, the insufficiency of those visionary articles of happiness, that are set forth with such parade of language in novels and romances, as consisting in sympathy of soul, and the mutual attraction of hearts, destined for each other."

"You will pardon me," said Lucy," for making one observation, that you yourself are an instance against the universal truth of your argument; you married for love, Mrs Boothby."

"I did so," interrupted she, "and therefore I am the better able to inform you of the short duration of that paradise such a state is supposed to imply. We were looked upon, Miss Lucy, as patterns of conjugal felicity; but folks did little know how soon the raptures with which we went together were changed into feelings of a much colder kind. At the same time, Mr Boothby was a good-natured man; and, I be-, lieve, we were on a better footing than most of your couples who marry for love are at the end of a twelvemonth. I am now but too well convinced, that those are the happiest matches which are founded on the soberer sentiments of gratitude and esteem."

To this concluding maxim Lucy made no reply. It was one of those which she could not easily bear to believe; it even tinctured the character of the person who made it, and she found herself not so much disposed to love Mrs Boothby as she once had been.

For this sort of reasoning, however, that lady had reasons which it may not be improper to explain to the reader, if indeed the reader has not already discovered them without the assistance of explanation.

Sir Thomas Sindall, though he was now verging towards that time of life, when

"The heyday of the blood is tame,"

was still as susceptible as ever of the influence of beauty. Miss Lucy I have already mentioned as possessing an uncommon share of it; and chance had placed her so immediately under his observation and guardianship, that it was scarce possible for him not to remark, and, having remarked, not to desire it. In some minds, indeed, there might have arisen suggestions of honour and conscience unfavourable to the use of that

2 H

opportunity which fortune had put in his power; but these were restraints which Sir Thomas had so frequently broken, as in a great measure to annihilate their force.

During the life of his aunt, there were other motives to restrain him; those were now removed; and being solicitous to preserve the advan tage which he drew from Miss Sindall's residence in his house, he pitched on Mrs Boothby to fill Mrs Selwyn's place, from whom his former good offices gave him an additional title to expect assistance, by means of the influence she would naturally gain over the mind of one who was in some sort to become her ward. As I am willing at present to believe that lady's character a fair one, I shall suppose that he concealed from her the kind of addresses with which he meant to approach her young friend. It is certain, there was but one kind which the principles of Sir Thomas allowed him to make.

One obstacle, however, he foresaw in the attachment which he had early discovered her to have towards Bolton. This, on the most favourable supposition of the case, he might easily represent to Mrs Boothby, equally hurtful to Lucy's interest, and destructive of his own wishes; and if she was prevailed on to espouse his cause, it may account for those lessons of prudence which she bestowed upon Miss Sindall.

Besides this, the Baronet did not scruple to use some other methods, still more dishonourable, of shaking her confidence in his cousin. He fell upon means of secretly intercepting that young gentleman's letters to Lucy. From this he drew a double advantage; both of fastening a suspicion on Harry's fidelity, and acquiring such intelligence as might point his own machinations to defeat the purposes which that correspondence contained.

CHAP. XIV.

A Discovery interesting to Miss Sindall.

UNDER those circumstances of advantage in which Sir Thomas Sindall stood, it did not seem a matter of extreme difficulty to accomplish that design which I have hinted to my readers in the preceding chapter. Let him, whose indignation is roused at the mention of it, carry his feelings abroad into life; he will find other Sindalls, whom the world has not marked with its displeasure; in the simplicity of my narrative, what is there that should set up this one to his hatred or his scorn? Let but the heart pronounce its judgment, and the decision will be the same.

Hitherto Sir Thomas had appeared as the parent and guardian of Lucy; and though at times certain expressions escaped him, which the quickness of more experienced, that is, less innocent, minds would have discovered to be

long to another character; yet she, to whom they were addressed, had heard them without suspicion. But she was now alarmed by the suggestions of Mrs Boothby; these suggestions it is possible the Baronet himself had prompted. He knew the force of that poison which is conveyed in those indirect approaches, when a woman's vanity is set on the watch by the assistance of a third person. She who imagines she hears them with indifference, is in danger; but she who listens to them with pleasure, is undone.

With Lucy, however, they failed of that effect which the Baronet's experience had promised him; she heard them with a sort of disgust at Mrs Boothby, and something like fear of Sir Thomas.

Her uneasiness increased as his declarations began to be more pointed; though they were then only such as some women, who had meant to give them no favourable ear, might perhaps have been rather flattered than displeased with; but Miss Sindall was equally void of the art by which we disguise our own sentiments, and the pride we assume from the sentiments of others.

To her virtues Sir Thomas was no stranger; they were difficulties which served but as spurs in his pursuit: That he continued it with increasing ardour, may be gathered from two letters, which I subjoin for the information of the reader. The first is addressed,

TO MRS WISTANLY.

"MY DEAR MADAM,

"I fear you begin to accuse me of neglect; but there are reasons why I cannot so easily write to you as formerly. Even without this apology, you would scarce believe me capable of forgetting you, who are almost the only friend I am possessed of. Alas! I have need of a friend ! pity and direct me.

"Sir Thomas Sindall-how shall I tell it!— he has ceased to be that guardian, that protector, I esteemed him; he says he loves, he adores me; I know not why it is, but I shudder when I hear these words from Sir Thomas Sindall.

"But I have better reason for my fears; he has used such expressions of late, that, though I am not skilled enough in the language of his sex to understand their meaning fully, yet they convey too much for his honour and for my peace.

"Nor is this all.-Last night I was sitting in the parlour with him and Mrs Boothby, (of whom I have much to tell you ;) I got up, and stood up in the bow-window, looking at the rays of the moon, which glittered on the pond in the garden. There was something of enviable tranquillity in the scene; I sighed as I looked.That's a deep one,' said Sir Thomas, patting me on the shoulder behind: I turned round somewhat in a flurry, when I perceived

a person, not in that line of association which the Baronet had drawn around her; consequently it escaped interception.

When Bolton received it, he was not only alarmed with the intelligence it contained, but his fears were doubly roused from the discovery it made to him, of his letters not being suffered to reach Miss Sindall. He dispatched his answer, therefore, by a special messenger, who was ordered to watch an opportunity of delivering it privately into the hands of the lady to whom it was addressed. This he found no easy matter to accomplish; nor would he perhaps have been able to effect it at all, but for an artifice to which he had recourse, of hiring himself on a job in Sir Thomas's garden, for which his knowledge in the business happened to qualify him. He had indeed been formerly employed in that capacity at Sindallpark, and had there been well enough known to Miss Lucy, who was herself a gardener for amusement; and, after leaving that place, having gone to the neighbourhood of London for improvement, he was met and hired by his former acquaintance, Mr Bolton.

The very next evening after he had got into this station, he observed Miss Sindall enter the garden alone. This was an opportunity not to be missed; on pretence, therefore, of fetching somewhat from the end of the walk she was on, he passed her, and pulled off his hat with a look significant of prior acquaintance. Lucy observed him, and, feeling a sort of momentary comfort from the recollection, began some talk with him respecting his former situation, and the changes it had undergone. She asked him many questions about their old neighbours at Sindall-park, and particularly Mrs Wistanly; when she was soon convinced of her misapprehension with regard to a failure of that worthy woman's intellects; Jerry (so the gardener was familiarly called) having seen her in his way to Bilswood, and heard her speak of Miss Lucy with the most tender concern." And what was your last service, Jerry ?" said she.-"I wrought for Mr Bolton, madam."-" Mr Bolton !"-" And I received this paper from him for your ladyship, which I was ordered to deliver into your own hands, and no other body's, an't please your ladyship." She took the letter with a trembling impatience, and, whispering that she would find an opportunity of seeing him again, hurried up into her chamber to peruse it. She found it to contain what follows:

"I have not words to tell my ever dearest Lucy, with what distracting anxiety I read the letter that is now lying before me. To give her suspicions of my faith, must have been the work of no common treachery: when she knows that I wrote to her three several times without receiving any answer, she will, at the same time,

acquit me of inconstancy, and judge of my uneasiness.

"That discovery which she has lately made, is nothing to her or to me. My Lucy is the child of heaven, and her inheritance every excellence it can bestow.

"But her present situation-my God! what horrible images has my fancy drawn of it! For heaven's sake, let not even the most amiable of weaknesses prevent her escaping from it into the arms of her faithful Bolton. I dispatch a messenger with this instantly. I shall follow him myself, the moment I have made some arrangements, necessary for your present safety and future comfort. I shall be in the neighbourhood of Bilswood, for I am forbidden to enter the house, Sir Thomas having taken occasion, from my resigning a commission which would have fixed me ingloriously in a garrison abroad, that I might be of some use to my country at home, to write me a letter in the angriest terms, renouncing me, as he expresses it, for ever. I see, I see the villainy of his purpose; 'tis but a few days hence, and I will meet him in the covert of his falsehood, and blast it. Let my Lucy be but just to herself and to

BOLTON."

She had scarcely read this, when Mrs Boothby entered the room. The Baronet had, for some days, quitted that plan of intimidation, which had prompted him to discover to Lucy the circumstance of her being a wretched foundling, supported by his charity, for a behaviour more mild and insinuating; and Mrs Boothby, who squared her conduct accordingly, had been particularly attentive and obliging. She now delivered to Miss Sindall a message from a young lady in the neighbourhood, an acquaintance of hers, begging her company, along with Mrs Boothby's, to a party of pleasure the day after. "And really, Miss Sindall,” said she, with an air of concern, "I must enforce the invitation from a regard to your health, as you seem to have been drooping for some days past." Lucy looked her full in the face, and sighed: that look she did not choose to understand, but repeated her question as to their jaunt to-morrow. "Miss Venhurst will call at nine, and expects to find you ready to attend her.""What you please," replied the other; "if Miss Venhurst is to be of the party, I have no objection." The consent seemed to give much satisfaction to Mrs Boothby, who left her with a gentle tap on the back, and an unusual appearance of kindness in her aspect.

Lucy read her letter again; she had desired Bolton to think of her no more; but there is in the worthiest hearts a little hypocrisy attending such requests: she found herself happy in the thought that he had not forgotten her.

When she opened her bureau, to deposit this