rrior to return, some little time before his meeting
with Louisa.

Nothing now was wanting to the contentment of this tender father but the
presence of Horatio, which he was every day expecting, when, instead of
himself, those letters from him arrived which contained his resolution
of remaining with Charles XII. till the conquests he was in pursuit of
should be accomplished.

This was some matter of affliction to Dorilaus, tho' in his heart he
could not but approve those principles of honour which detained
him.--Neither the baron de Palfoy, nor Charlotta herself, could say he
could well have acted otherwise, and used their utmost endeavours to
comfort a father in his anxieties for the safety of so valuable a son.

Louisa was also very much troubled at being disappointed in her hope of
embracing a brother, whom she had ever dearly loved, and was now more
precious to her than ever, by the proofs she had heard he had given of
his courage and his virtue; but she had another secret and more poignant
grief that preyed upon her soul, and could scarce receive any addition
from ought beside:--she had been now near two months in Paris, yet could
hear nothing of monsieur du Plessis, but that, by the death of his
father, a large estate had devolved upon him, which he had never come to
claim, or had been at Paris for about eighteen months, so that she had
all the reason in the world to believe he was no more. This threw her
into a melancholy, which was so much the more severe as she endeavoured
to conceal it:--she made use of all her efforts to support the loss of a
person she so much loved, and who proved himself so deserving of that
love:--she represented to herself that being relieved from all the
snares and miseries of an indigent life, raised from an obscurity which
had given her many bitter pangs, to a station equal to her wishes, and
under the care of the most indulgent and best of fathers, she ought not
to repine, but bless the bounty of heaven, who had bestowed on her so
many blessings, and with-held only one she could have asked.--These, I
say, were the dictates of reason and religion; but the tender passion
was not always to be silenced by them, and whenever she was alone, the
tears, in spight of herself, would flow, and she, without even knowing
she did so, cry out, Oh du Plessis, wherefore do I live since thou
art dead!

Among the many acquaintance she soon contracted at Paris, there was none
she so much esteemed, b