was at the clofe of a piece of music, which they had been playing in the abfence of her father. She took up her lute, and touched a little wild melancholy air, which he had composed to the memory of her mother. "That," faid he, "nobody ever heard except my father; I play "it fometimes when I am alone, and in low "fpirits. I don't know how I came to think

ર of it now; yet I have some reason to be fad." Sir Edward preffed to know the caufe; after fome hesitation fhe told it all. Her father had fixed on the fon of a neighbour, rich in poffeffions, but rude in manners, for her husband. Against this match she had always protested as ftrongly, as a fense of duty, and the mildness of her nature, would allow; but Venoni was obftinately bent on the match, and she was wretched from the thoughts of it. To marry, where

66.

*

4

one cannot love, to marry fuch a man, Sir "Edward!"It was an opportunity beyond his power of refiftance. Sir Edward preffed her hand; faid it would be profanation to think of fuch a marriage; praised her beauty, extolled her virtues; and concluded, by fwearing, that he adored her. She heard him with unfufpecting pleasure, which her blufhes could ill conceal.Sir Edward improved the favourable moment; talked of the ardency of his paffion, the infignificancy of ceremonies and forms, the ineffi

cacy

cacy of legal engagements, the eternal duration of thofe dictated by love; and, in fine, urged her going off with him, to crown both their days with happiness. Louisa started at that proposal. She would have reproached him, but her heart was not made for it; fhe could only weep.

They were interrupted by the arrival of her father with his intended fon-in-law. He was just such a man as Louisa had represented him, coarse, vulgar, and ignorant. But Venoni, tho' much above their neighbour in every thing but riches, looked on him as poorer men often look on the wealthy, and discovered none of his imperfections. He took his daughter afide, told her he had brought her future husband, and that he intended they should be married in a week at fartheft.

Next morning Louisa was indisposed, and kept her chamber. Sir Edward was now perfectly recovered. He was engaged to go out with Venoni; but, before his departure, he took up his violin, and touched a few plaintive notes on it. They were heard by Louisa.

In the evening she wandered forth to indulge her forrows alone. She had reached a fequeftered spot, where some poplars formed a thicket, on the banks of a little stream that watered the valley. A nightingale was perched on one of them, and had already begun its accustomed fong. Leuifa fat down on a withered ftump, leaning her cheek

upon

upon her hand. After a little while, the bird was feared from its perch, and flitted from the thicket. Louifa rofe from the ground, and burst into tears! She turned and beheld Sir Edward. 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?" faid Louifa, with a voice faint and broken.-" I "am ill, indeed," faid he, "but my illness is of "the mind. Louifa cannot cure me of that. I 66 am wretched; but I deferve to be fo. I have "broken every law of hospitality, and every ob"ligation of gratitude. I have dared to with "for happiness, and to speak what I wished, "though it wounded the heart of my dearest "benefactress-but I will make a fevere expi❝ation. This moment I leave you, Louisa! "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 pof"feffion 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 poffible, procure a fort of half-oblivion of that hap"piness which I have left behind, a listless "endurance of that life which I once dream'd "might be made delightful with Louifa."

Tears

Tears were the only answer 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 Louifa, he faftened round his neck, and, kiffing it with rapture, hid it in his bofom. The other he held "This," faid he,

cut in a hesitating manner. "if Louifa will accept of it, may fometimes. ર put her in mind of him who once offended, "who can never cease to adore her. She may "look on it, perhaps, after the original is no 66 more; when this heart fhall have forgot to love, and ceafed to be wretched."

Louifa was at last overcome. Her face was firft pale as death; then fuddenly it was croffed with a crimson blufh. "Oh! Sir Edward!" 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 furious speed, were foon out of fight of thofe hills which paftured the flocks of the unfortunate Venoni.

V

N° 109.

THE

TUESDAY, May 23, 1780.

THE virtue of Louifa was vanquifhed; but her fenfe of virtue was not overcome. Neither the vows of eternal fidelity of her seducer, nor the conftant and respectful attention which he paid her during a hurried journey to England, could allay that anguish which she 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 remorse, to compaffion, and to love. These 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 attachment. She never mentioned her wrongs in words: fometimes a few ftarting tears would fpeak them; and, when time had given her a little more compofure, her lute difcourfed melancholy mufic.

On their arrival in England, Sir Edward carried Louifa to his feat in the country. There

fhe