ddresses to you, my
dear?

Never, madam.

It is not for want of love, I dare aver, that he has not. But thus he
answered my question: 'I should have thought myself the unworthiest of
men, knowing the difficulties of my own situation, how great soever were
the temptation from Miss Byron's merit if I had sought to engage her
affections.'

[O, Lucy! How nobly is his whole conduct towards me justified!]

'She has, madam,' (proceeded the countess, in his words,) 'a prudence
that I never knew equalled in a woman so young. With a frankness of
mind, to which hardly ever young lady before her had pretensions, she has
such a command of her affections, that no man, I dare say, will ever have
a share in them, till he has courted her favour by assiduities which
shall convince her that he has no heart but for her.'

O my Lucy! What an honour to me would these sentiments be, if I deserved
them! And can Sir Charles Grandison think I do?--I hope so. But if he
does, how much am I indebted to his favourable, his generous opinion!
Who knows but I have reason to rejoice, rather than to regret, as I used
to do, his frequent absences from Colnebrook?

The countess proceeded.

Then, sir, you will not take it amiss, if my son, by his assiduities, can
prevail upon Miss Byron to think that he has merit, and that his heart is
wholly devoted to her.

'Amiss, madam!--No!--In justice, in honour, I cannot. May Miss Byron be,
as she deserves to be, one of the happiest women on earth in her
nuptials. I have heard a great character of Lord D----. He has a very
large estate. He may boast of his mother--God forbid, that I, a man
divided in myself, not knowing what I can do, hardly sometimes what I
ought to do, should seek to involve in my own uncertainties the friend I
revere; the woman I so greatly admire: her beauty so attracting; so
proper therefore for her to engage a generous protector in the married
state.'

Generous man! thought I. O how my tears ran down my cheeks, as I hid my
face behind the countess's chair!

But will you allow me, sir, proceeded the countess, to ask you, were you
freed from all your uncertainties--

'Permit me, madam,' interrupted he, 'to spare you the question you were
going to put. As I know not what will be the result of my journey
abroad, I should think myself a very selfish man, and a very
dishonourable one to two ladies of equal delicacy and worthiness, if I
sought to involve, as I hinted before, in my own u