es me!
Hear how solemnly he spoke--God Almighty be your director, my dear Miss
Byron! I wish not more happiness to my own soul, than I do to you.--In
discharge of a promise made, I mention this visit to you: I might
otherwise have spared you, and myself--

He stopt there--Then resumed; for I was silent. I could not speak--Your
friends will be entreated for a man that loves you; a very worthy young
nobleman.--I give you emotion, madam.--Forgive me.--I have performed my
promise. He turned from me with a seeming cheerful air. How could he
appear to be cheerful!

We made parties at cards. I knew not what I played. Emily sighed, and
tears stole down her cheeks, as she played. O how she loves her
guardian! Emily, I say--I don't know what I write!

At supper we were all very melancholy. Mr. Beauchamp was urgent to go
abroad with him. He changed the subject, and gave him an indirect
denial, as I may call it, by recommending the two Italian ladies to his
best services.

Sir Charles, kind, good, excellent! wished to Lord L---- to have seen Mr.
Grandison!--unworthy as that man has made himself of his attention.

He was a few moments in private with Lady Olivia. She returned to
company with red eyes.

Poor Emily watched an opportunity to be spoken to by him alone--So
diligently!--He led her to the window--About one o'clock it was--He held
both her hands. He called her, she says, his Emily. He charged her to
write to him.

She could not speak; she could only sob; yet thought she had a thousand
things to say to him.

He contradicted not the hope his sisters and their lords had of his
breakfasting with them. They invited me; they invited the Italian
ladies: Lady L----, Lord L----, did go, in expectation: but Lady G----,
when she found him gone, sent me and the Italian ladies word, that he
was. It would have been cruel, if she had not. How could he steal away
so! I find, that he intended that his morning visit to me (as indeed I
half-suspected) should be a taking leave of my cousins, and your Harriet.
How many things did he say then--How many questions ask--In tender woe--
He wanted to do us all service--He seemed not to know what to say--Surely
he hates not your poor Harriet--What struggles in his noble bosom!--But a
man cannot complain: a man cannot ask for compassion, as a woman can.
But surely his is the gentlest of manly minds!

When we broke up, he handed my cousin Reeves into her coach. He handed
me. Mr. Reeves said,