f to breakfast with my aunt Selby yesterday
morning. I would not avoid him.

I will not trouble you with the particulars: you know well enough what
men will say on the subject upon which you will suppose he wanted to talk
to me. He was extremely earnest. I besought him to accept my thanks for
his good opinion of me, as all the return I could make him for it; and
this in so very serious a manner, that my heart was fretted, when he
declared, with warmth, his determined perseverance.

Mr. Greville made us a tea-visit in the afternoon. My uncle and he
joined to rally us poor women, as usual. I left the defence of the sex
to my aunt and Lucy. How poor appears to me every conversation now with
these men!--But hold, saucy Harriet, was not your uncle Selby one of the
raillers?--But he does not believe all he says; and therefore cannot
wish to be so much regarded, on this topic, as he ought to be by me, on
others.

After the run of raillery was over, in which Mr. Greville made exceptions
favourable to the women present, he applied to every one for their
interest with me, and to me to countenance his address. He set forth his
pretensions very pompously, and mentioned a very considerable increase of
his fortune; which before was a very handsome one. He offered our own
terms. He declared his love for me above all women, and made his
happiness in the next world, as well as in this, depend upon my favour to
him.

It was easy to answer all he said; and is equally so for you to guess in
what manner I answered him: And he, finding me determined, began to grow
vehement, and even affrontive. He hinted to me, that he knew what had
made me so very resolute. He threw out threatenings against the man, be
he whom he would, that should stand in the way of his success with me; at
the same time intimating saucily, as I may say, (for his manner had
insult in it,) that it was impossible a certain event could ever take
place.

My uncle was angry with him; so was my aunt: Lucy was still more angry
than they: but I, standing up, said, Pray, my dear friends, take nothing
amiss that Mr. Greville has said.--He once told me, that he would set
spies upon my conduct in town. If, sir, your spies have been just, I
fear nothing they can say. But the hints you have thrown out, shew such
a total want of all delicacy of mind, that you must not wonder if my
heart rejects you. Yet I am not angry: I reproach you not: Every one has
his peculiar way. All that is