burst into tears.

Sir Edward.

She turned- and beheld

His countenance had much of

its former languor; and, when he took her hand, he caft on the earth a melancholy look, and feemed unable to speak his feelings. "Are"you not well, Sir Edward?” said Louisa, with a voice faint and broken. - "I am ill; "indeed,” said he, "but my illness is of the "mind. Louifa cannot cure me of that. I "am wretched; but I deferve to be fo. I "have broken every law of hofpitality, and

"

every obligation of gratitude. I have dared "to with for happinefs, and to speak what I "wifhed, though it wounded the heart of my "deareft benefactress - but I will make a fe

vere expiation. This moment I leave you, "Louifa? I go to be wretched; but you may "be happy, happy in your duty to a father, "happy, it may be, in the arms of a husband, "whom the poffeffion of fuch a wife may teach refinement and fenfibility.

I go to my native country, to hurry through fcenes of irksome bufinefs or taftelefs amufement ;. "that I may, if poflible, procure a fort of half-oblivion of that happiness which I have . left behind, a liftlefs endurance of that life

"which

"which I once dream'd might be made de. 66. lightful with Louifa."

Tears were the only anfwer fhe could give. Sir Edward's fervants appeared, with a carriage, ready for his departure. He took from his pocket two pictures; one he had drawn of Louisa, he faftened round his neck, and kiffing it with rapture, hid it in his bofom. The other he held out in a hesitating manner. "This," faid he, "if Louifa will accept of it,

may fometimes put her in mind of him who' once offended, who can never ceafe to adore "her. She may look on it, perhaps, after "the original is no more; when this heart. "fhall have forgot to love, and ceafed to be "wretched."

Louifa was at laft overcome. Her face was firft pale as death; then fuddenly it was croffed with a crimfon blush. "Oh! Sir Ed"ward!" faid fhe, "What- what would "you have me do!" He eagerly feized her hand, and led her, reluctant, to the carriage. They entered it, and, driving off with furiousfpeed, were foon out of fight of thofe hills which pastured the flocks of the unfortunate: Venoni.

N° 109.

TUESDAY, May 23: 1780

HE virtue of Louifa was vanquished ; but her fenfe of virtue was not over

THE

come.

Neither the vows of eternal fidelity of her feducer, nor the conftant and respect-ful attention which he paid her during a hurried journey to England, could allay that anguifh which the fuffered at the recollection of her paft, and the thoughts of her prefent fituation. Sir Edward felt ftrongly the power of her beauty and of her grief. His heart was not made for that part which, it is probable, He thought it could have performed: it was ftill fubject to remorfe, to compaffion, and to love. Thefe emotions, perhaps, he might foon have overcome, had they been met by vulgar violence or reproaches; but the quiet and unupbraiding forrows of Louifa nourished thofe feelings of tenderness and attachShe never mentioned her wrongs in words fometimes a few starting tears would fpeak them; and, when time had given her a

ment.

little more compofure, her lute difcourfed, melancholy music..

On their arrival in England, Sir Edward, carried Louifa to his feat in the country. There fhe was treated with all the observance of a wife; and, had fhe chosen it, might have commanded more than the ordinary fplendour of one. But he would not allow the indulgence of Sir Edward to blazon with equipage, and fhow that ftate which she wifhed always to hide, and, if poflible, to forget. Her books and her mufic were her only pleafures; if pleasures they could be called, that ferved but to alleviate mifery, and to blunt, for a while, the pangs of contrition.

These were deeply aggravated by the recollection of her father: a father left in his age to feel his own misfortunes and his daughter's digrace. Sir Edward was too generous not to think of providing for Venoni. He meant to make some atonement for the injury he had done him, by that cruel bounty which is reparation only to the bafe, but to the honeft is infult. He had not, however, an opportunity of accomplishing his purpose. He learned that Venoni, foon after his daughter's elopement, removed from his former place of refidence,

refidence, and, as his neighbours reported, had died in one of the villages of Savoy. His daughter felt this with anguifh the most poignant, and her affliction, for a while, refused. confolation. Sir Edward's whole tenderness and attention were called forth to mitigate her grief; and, after its first tranfports had. fubfided, he carried her to London, in hopesthat objects new to her, and commonly attrac. tive to all, might contribute to remove it.

With a man poffeffed of feelings like Sir Edward's, the affliction of Louifa gave a certain refpect to his attentions. He hired her lodgings feparate from his own, and treated. her with all the delicacy of the pureft attachment. But his folicitude to comfort and. amufe her was not attended with fuccefs. She felt all the horrors of that guilt which the now confidered, as not only the ruin of her felf, but the murderer of her father.

In London Sir Edward found his fifter, who had married a man of great fortune and high fashion. He had married her, becaufe fhe was a fine woman, and admired by fine men; fhe had married him, because he was the wealthieft of her fuitors. They lived, as is common to people in such a situation, necef