e
conversation.

'That is a charming young Man, Antonia; I am much pleased with him.
Was He long near you yesterday in the Cathedral?'

'He quitted me not for a moment while I staid in the Church: He gave
me his seat, and was very obliging and attentive.'

'Indeed? Why then have you never mentioned his name to me? Your Aunt
lanched out in praise of his Friend, and you vaunted Ambrosio's
eloquence: But Neither said a word of Don Lorenzo's person and
accomplishments. Had not Leonella spoken of his readiness to undertake
our cause, I should not have known him to be in existence.'

She paused. Antonia coloured, but was silent.

'Perhaps you judge him less favourably than I do. In my opinion his
figure is pleasing, his conversation sensible, and manners engaging.
Still He may have struck you differently: You may think him
disagreeable, and ...'.

'Disagreeable? Oh! dear Mother, how should I possibly think him so? I
should be very ungrateful were I not sensible of his kindness
yesterday, and very blind if his merits had escaped me. His figure is
so graceful, so noble! His manners so gentle, yet so manly! I never
yet saw so many accomplishments united in one person, and I doubt
whether Madrid can produce his equal.'

'Why then were you so silent in praise of this Phoenix of Madrid?

Why was it concealed from me that his society had afforded you
pleasure?'

'In truth, I know not: You ask me a question which I cannot resolve
myself. I was on the point of mentioning him a thousand times: His
name was constantly upon my lips, but when I would have pronounced it,
I wanted courage to execute my design. However, if I did not speak of
him, it was not that I thought of him the less.'

'That I believe; But shall I tell you why you wanted courage? It was
because, accustomed to confide to me your most secret thoughts, you
knew not how to conceal, yet feared to acknowledge, that your heart
nourished a sentiment which you were conscious I should disapprove.
Come hither to me, my Child.'

Antonia quitted her embroidery frame, threw herself upon her knees by
the Sopha, and hid her face in her Mother's lap.

'Fear not, my sweet Girl! Consider me equally as your Friend and
Parent, and apprehend no reproof from me. I have read the emotions of
your bosom; you are yet ill-skilled in concealing them, and they could
not escape my attentive eye. This Lorenzo is dangerous to your repose;
He has already made an impress