he had, by an innocent piece of
art, but just before, sent to bring her something from her toilette.

The general went with Camilla to her. They found her just setting a
ladder against the wall. She heard them, and screamed, and, leaving the
ladder, ran, to avoid them, till she came in sight of the great cascade;
into which, had she not by a cross alley been intercepted by the general,
it is feared she would have thrown herself.

This has terrified us all: she begs but for one interview; one parting
interview; and she promises to make herself easy: but it is not thought
advisable. Yet Father Marescotti himself thought it best to indulge her.
Had my mother been earnest, I believe it had been granted: but she is so
much concerned at the blame she met with on permitting the last
interview, that she will not contend, though she has let them know, that
she did not oppose the request.

The unhappy girl ran into my chamber this morning --Jeronymo; he will be
gone! said she: I know he will. All I want, is but to see him! To wish
him happy! And to know, if he will remember me when he is gone, as I
shall him!--Have you no interest, Jeronymo? Cannot I once see him? Not
once?

The bishop, before I could answer, came in quest of her, followed by
Laurana, from whom she had forcibly disengaged herself, to come to me.

Let me have but one parting interview, my lord, said she, looking to him,
and clinging about my neck. He will be gone: gone for ever. Is there so
much in being allowed to say, Farewell, and be happy, Grandison! and
excuse all the trouble I have given you?--What has my brother's preserver
done, what have I done, that I must not see him, nor he me, for one
quarter of an hour only?

Indeed, my lord, said I, she should be complied with. Indeed she should.

My father thinks otherwise, said the bishop: the count thinks otherwise:
I think otherwise. Were the chevalier a common man, she might. But she
dwells upon what passed in the last interview, and his behaviour to her.
That, it is plain, did her harm.

The next may drive the thoughts of that out of her head, returned I.

Dear Jeronymo, replied he, a little peevishly, you will always think
differently from every body else! Mrs. Beaumont comes to-morrow.

What do I care for Mrs. Beaumont? said she.--I don't love her: she tells
every thing I say.

Come, my dear love, said Laurana, you afflict your brother Jeronymo. Let
us go up to your own chamber.

I afflict ever