Joseph was now come up, and Mrs Slipslop would have had him quit his horse to the parson, and come himself into the coach; but he absolutely refused, saying, He thanked Heaven he was well enough recovered to be very able to ride; and added, He hoped he knew his duty better, than to ride in a coach while Mr Adams was on horseback.

Mrs Slipslop would have persisted longer, had not a lady in the coach put a short end to the dispute, by refusing to suffer a fellow in a livery to ride in the same coach with herself: so it was at length agreed that Adams should fill the vacant place in the coach, and Joseph should proceed on horseback.

So

They had not proceeded far, before Mrs Slipslop, addressing herself to the parson, spoke thus: "There hath been a strange alteration in our family, Mr Adams, since Sir Thomas's death." "A strange alteration indeed!" says Adams, "as I gather from some hints which have dropped from Joseph." Ay," says she, "I could never have believed it; but the longer one lives in the world, the more one sees. Joseph hath given you hints?”—“ But of what nature will always remain a perfect secret with me," cries the parson: "he forced me to promise before he would communicate any thing. I am indeed concerned to find her ladyship behave in so unbecoming a manner. I always thought her in the main a good lady, and should never have suspected her of thoughts so unworthy a Christian, and with a young lad her own servant." "These things are no secrets to me, I assure you," cries Slipslop; "and I believe they will be none any where shortly: for ever since the boy's departure, she hath behaved more like a mad woman than any thing else." "Truly, I am heartily concerned," says Adams, "for she was a good sort of a lady; indeed I have often wished she had attended a little more constantly at the service; but she hath done a great deal of good in the parish." "O Mr Adams!" says Slipslop, "people that don't see all, often know nothing. Many things have been given away in our family, I do assure you, without her knowledge. I have heard you say in the pulpit, We ought not to brag: but indeed I can't avoid saying, if she had kept the keys herself, the poor would have wanted many a cordial which I have let them have. As for my late master, he was as worthy a man as ever lived, and would have done infinite good if he had not been controlled: but he loved a quiet life, Heavens rest his soul! I am confident he is there, and enjoys a quiet life, which some folks would not allow him here." Adams answered, He had never heard this before, and was mistaken if she herself (for he remembered she used to commend her mistress, and blame her master), had not formerly been of another opinion. "I don't know," replied she, "what I might once think; but now I am confidous matters are as I tell you: the

world will shortly see who hath been deceived; for my part I say nothing, but that it is wondersome how some people can carry all things with a grave face."

Thus Mr Adams and she discoursed, until they came opposite to a great house which stood at some distance from the road; a lady in the coach spying it, cried, "Yonder lives the unfortunate Leonora, if one can justly call a woman unfortunate whom we must own at the same time guilty, and the author of her own. calamity." This was abundantly sufficient to awaken the curiosity of Mr Adams, as indeed it did that of the whole company, who jointly solicited the lady to acquaint them with Leonora's history, since it seemed, by what she had said, to contain something very remarkable.

The lady, who was perfectly well bred, did not require many entreaties, and having only wished their entertainment might make amends for the company's attention, she began in the following manner;

CHAP. IV.

The history of Leonora, or the Unfortunate Jilt,

LEONORA was the daughter of a gentleman of fortune; she was tall and well-shaped, with a sprightliness in her countenance which often attracts beyond more regular features, joined with an insipid air; nor is this kind of beauty less apt to deceive than allure; the good-humour which it indicates being often mistaken for good nature, and the vivacity for true understanding.

Leonora, who was now at the age of eighteen, lived with an aunt of her's in a town in the north of England. She was an extreme lover of gaiety; and very rarely missed a ball, or any other public assembly; where she had frequent opportunities of satisfying a greedy appetite of vanity, with the preference which was given her by the men to almost every other woman present.

Among many young fellows who were particular in their gallantries towards her, Horatio soon distinguished himself in her eyes beyond all his competititors. She danced with more than ordinary gaiety when he happened to be her partner; neither the fairness of the evening, nor the music of the nightingale, could lengthen her walk like his company. She affected no longer to understand the eivilities of others; whilst she inclined so attentive an ear to every compliment of Horatio, that she often smiled, even when it was too delicate for her comprehension.

Pray, madam," says Adams, "who was this Squire Horatio?"

Horatio, says the lady, was a young gentleman of a good family, bred to the law, and had

been some few years called to the degree of a barrister. His face and person were such as the generality allowed handsome: but he had a dignity in his air very rarely to be seen. His temper was of the saturnine complection, and without the least taint of moroseness. He had wit and humour, with an inclination to satire, which he indulged rather too much.

This gentleman, who had contracted the most violent passion for Leonora, was the last person who perceived the probability of its success. The whole town had made the match for him, before he himself had drawn a confidence from her actions sufficient to mention his passion to her; for it was his opinion, (and perhaps he was there in the right) that it is highly impolitic to talk seriously of love to a woman, before you have made such a progress in her affections, that she herself expects and desires to hear it.

But whatever diffidence the fears of a lover may create, which are apt to magnify every favour conferred on a rival, and to see the little advances towards themselves through the other end of the perspective, it was impossible that Horatio's passion should so blind his discernment, as to prevent his conceiving hopes from the behaviour of Leonora, whose fondness for him was now as visible to an indifferent person in their company, as his for her.

"I never knew any of these forward sluts come to good," says the lady who refused Joseph's entrance into the coach, "nor shall I wonder at any thing she doeth in the sequel."

The lady proceeded in her story thus: It was in the midst of a gay conversation in the walks one evening, when Horatio whispered Leonora, "That he was desirous to take a turn or two with her in private; for that he had something to communicate to her of great consequence." "Are you sure it is of consequence?" said she smiling."I hope," answered he, " you will think so too, since the whole future happiness of my life must depend on the event."

Leonora, who very much suspected what was coming, would have deferred it till another time; but Horatio, who had more than half conquered the difficulty of speaking, by the first motion, was so very importunate, that she at last yielded, and leaving the rest of the company, they turned aside into an unfrequented walk.

They had retired far out of the sight of the company, both maintaining a strict silence. At last Horatio made a full stop, and taking Leonora, who stood pale and trembling, gently by the hand, he fetched a deep sigh, and then looking on her eyes with all the tenderness imaginable, he cried out in a faultering accent; "O Leonora, is it necessary for me to declare to you on what the future happiness of my life must be founded! must I say there is something belonging to you which is a bar to my happiness, and which, unless you will part with, I must be mi

serable?" "What can that be?" replied Leonora.-" No wonder," said he, "you are surprised that I should make an objection to any thing which is yours; yet sure you may guess, since it is the only one which the riches of the world, if they were mine, should purchase of me.-Oh it is that which you must part with, to bestow all the rest! Can Leonora, or rather will she, doubt longer?-Let me then whisper it in her ears,-It is your name, madam. It is by parting with that, by your condescension to be for ever mine, which must at once prevent me from being the most miserable, and will render me the happiest of mankind.”

Leonora, covered with blushes, and with as angry a look as she could possibly put on, told him, "That had she suspected what his declaration would have been, he should not have decoyed her from her company; that he had so surprised and frightened her, that she begged him to convey her back as quick as possible;" which he, trembling very near as much as herself, did.

"More fool he," cried Slipslop; " it is a sign he knew very little of our sect." "Truly, madam," said Adams, "I think you are in the right; I should have insisted to know a piece of her mind, when I had carried matters so far." But Mrs Graveairs desired the lady to omit all such fulsome stuff in her story; for that it made her sick.

Well then, madam, to be as concise as possible, said the lady, many weeks had not passed after this interview, before Horatio and Leonora were what they call on a good footing together. All ceremonies, except the last, were now over; the writings were now drawn, and every thing was in the utmost forwardness preparative to the putting Horatio in possession of all his wishes. I will, if you please, repeat you a letter from each of them, which I have got by heart, and which will give you no small idea of their passion on both sides.

Mrs Graveairs objected to hearing these letters: but, being put to the vote, it was carried against her by all the rest in the coach, Parson Adams contending for it with the utmost vehe

mence.

HORATIO TO LEONORA.

"How vain, most adorable creature, is the pursuit of pleasure in the absence of an object to which the mind is entirely devoted, unless it have some relation to that object! I was last night condemned to the society of men of wit and learning, which, however agreeable it might have formerly been to me, now only gave me a suspicion that they imputed my absence in conversation to the true cause. For which reason, when your engagements forbid me the ecstatic happiness of seeing you, I am always desirous to be alone; since my sentiments for Leonora are

so delicate, that I cannot bear the apprehension of another's prying into those delightful endearments with which the warm imagination of a lover will sometimes indulge him, and which I suspect my eyes then betray. To fear this discovery of our thoughts, may perhaps appear too ridiculous a nicety to minds not susceptible of all the tendernesses of this delicate passion. And surely we shall suspect there are few such, when we consider that it requires every human virtue to exert itself in its full extent: since the beloved, whose happiness it ultimately respects, may give us charming opportunities of being brave in her defence, generous to her wants, compassionate to her afflictions, grateful to her kindness; and, in the same manner, of exercising every other virtue, which he who would not do to any degree, and that with the utmost rapture, can never deserve the name of a lover. It is therefore with a view to the delicate modesty of your mind that I cultivate it so purely in my own; and it is that which will sufficiently suggest to you the uneasiness I bear from those liberties which men, to whom the world allow politeness, will sometimes give themselves on these occasions.

"Can I tell you with what eagerness I expect the arrival of that blest day, when I shall experience the falsehood of a common assertion, that the greatest human happiness consists in hope? A doctrine which no person had ever stronger reason to believe than myself at present, since none ever tasted such bliss as fires my bosom with the thoughts of spending my future days with such a companion, and that every action of my life will have the glorious satisfaction of conducing to your happiness.'

LEONORA to HORATIO.*

"The refinement of your mind has been so evidently proved by every word and action ever since I had first the pleasure of knowing you, that I thought it impossible my good opinion of Horatio could have been heightened to any additional proof of merit. This very thought was my amusement when I received your last letter, which, when I opened, I confess I was surprised to find the delicate sentiments expressed there so far exceeded what I thought could come even from you, (although I know all the generous principles human nature is capable of are centered in your breast) that words cannot paint what I feel on the reflection, that my happiness shall be the ultimate end of all your actions.

"Oh, Horatio! what a life must that be, where the meanest domestic cares are sweetened by the pleasing consideration, that the man on earth who best deserves, and to whom you are

most inclined to give your affections, is to reap either profit or pleasure from all you do! in such a case toils must be turned into diversions, and nothing but the unavoidable inconveniences of life can make us remember that we are mortal.

"If the solitary turn of your thoughts, and the desire of keeping them undiscovered, makes even the conversation of men of wit and learning tedious to you, what anxious hours must I spend, who am condemned, by custom, to the conversation of women, whose natural curiosity leads them to pry into all my thoughts, and whose envy can never suffer Horatio's heart to be possessed by any one, without forcing them into malicious designs against the person who is so happy as to possess it: but indeed, if ever envy can possibly have any excuse, or even alleviation, it is in this case, where the good is so great; and it must be equally natural to all to wish it for themselves, nor am I ashamed to own it: and to your merit, Horatio, I am obliged, that prevents my being in that most uneasy of all the situations I can figure in my imagination, of being led by inclination to love the person whom my own judgment forces me to condemn."

Matters were in so great forwardness between this fond couple, that the day was fixed for their marriage, and was now within a fortnight, when the sessions chanced to be held for that county, in a town about twenty miles distance from that which is the scene of our story. It seems it is usual for the young gentlemen of the bar to repair to these sessions, not so much for the sake of profit, as to shew their parts, and learn the law of the justices of peace: for which purpose one of the wisest and gravest of all the justices is appointed speaker or chairman, as they modestly call it, and he reads them a lecture, and instructs them in the true knowledge of the law.

"You are here guilty of a little mistake," says Adams, "which, if you please, I will correct; I have attended at one of these quartersessions, where I observed the counsel taught the justices, instead of learning any thing of them."

It is not very material, said the lady. Hither repaired Horatio, who, as he hoped by his profession to advance his fortune, which was not at present very large, for the sake of his dear Leonora he resolved to spare no pains, nor lose any opportunity of improving or advancing himself in it.

The same afternoon in which he left the town, as Leonora stood at her window, a coach and six passed by; which she declared to be the

completest, genteelest, prettiest equipage she ever saw; adding these remarkable words, "O, I am in love with that equipage!" which, though her friend Florella at that time did not greatly regard, she hath since remembered.

In the evening an assembly was held, which Leonora honoured with her company; but in tended to pay her dear Horatio the compliment of refusing to dance in his absence.

O why have not women as good resolution to maintain their vows, as they have often good inclination in making them!

The gentleman who owned the coach and six came to the assembly. His clothes were as remarkably fine as his equipage could be. He soon attracted the eyes of the company; all the smarts, all the silk waist-coats with silver and gold edgings, were eclipsed in an instant.

"Madam," said Adams, "if it be not impertinent, I should be glad to know how this gentleman was drest."

Sir, answered the lady, I have been told he had on a cut-velvet coat of a cinnamon colour, lined with a pink sattin, embroidered all over with gold; his waistcoat, which was cloth of silver, was embroidered with gold likewise. I cannot be particular as to the rest of his dress; but it was all in the French fashion; for Bellarmine (that was his name) was just arrived from Paris.

This fine figure did not more entirely engage the eyes of every lady in the assembly, than Leonora did his. He had scarcely beheld her, but he stood motionless and fixed as a statue, or at least would have done so, if good breeding had permitted him. However, he carried it so far, before he had power to correct himself, that every person in the room easily discovered where his admiration was settled. The other ladies began to single out their former partners, all perceiving who would be Bellarmine's choice; which they, however, endeavoured, by all possible means, to prevent: many of them saying to Leonora, "O Madam, I suppose we shan't have the pleasure of seeing you dance to night;" and then crying out, in Bellarmine's hearing, O, Leonora will not dance, I assure you; her partner is not here." One maliciousIv attempted to prevent her, by sending a disagreeable fellow to ask her, that so she might be obliged either to dance with him, or sit down: but this scheme proved abortive.

66

Leonora saw herself admired by the fine stranger, and envied by every woman present. Her little heart began to flutter within her, and her head was agitated with a convulsive motion; she seemed as if she would speak to several of her acquaintance, but had nothing to say: for as she would not mention her present triumph, so she could not disengage her thoughts one moment from the contemplation of it. She had never tasted any thing like this happiness. She had before known what it was to torment

a single woman; but to be hated and secretly cursed by a whole assembly, was a joy reserved for this blessed moment. As this vast profusion of ecstasy had confounded her understanding, so there was nothing so foolish as her behaviour; she played a thousand childish tricks, distorted her person into several shapes, and her face into several laughs, without any reason. In a word, her carriage was as absurd as her desires, which were, to affect an insensibility of the stranger's admiration, and at the same time a triumph, from that admiration, over every woman in the room.

In this temper of mind Bellarmine, having inquired who she was, advanced to her, and, with a low bow, begged the honour of dancing with her; which she, with as low a curtesy, immediately granted. She danced with him all night, and enjoyed, perhaps, the highest pleasure she was capable of feeling.

At these words Adams fetched a deep groan, which frighted the ladies, who told him, "they hoped he was not ill." He answered," he groaned only for the folly of Leonora."

Leonora retired (continued the lady) about six in the morning, but not to rest. She tumbled and tossed in her bed, with very short intervals of sleep, and those entirely filled with dreams of the equipage and fine clothes she had seen, and the balls, operas, and ridottos, which had been the subject of their conversation.

In the afternoon Bellarmine, in the dear coach and six, came to wait on her. He was indeed charmed with her person, and was, on inquiry, so well pleased with the circumstances of her father, (for he himself, notwithstanding all his finery, was not quite so rich as Crœsus, or an Attalus.)" Attalus," says Mr Adams; "but pray how came you acquainted with these names?" The lady smiled at the question, and proceeded-He was so pleased, I say, that he resolved to make his addresses to her directly. He did so accordingly, and that with so much warmth and briskness, that he quickly baffled her weak repulses, and obliged the lady to refer him to her father, who, she knew, would quickly declare in favour of a coach and six.

Thus, what Horatio had by sighs and tears, love and tenderness, been so long obtaining, the French-English Bellarmine, with gaiety and gallantry, possessed himself of in an instant: in other words, what Modesty had employed a full year in raising, Impudence demolished in twenty-four hours.

Here Adams groaned a second time; but the ladies, who began to smoke him, took no notice.

From the opening of the assembly, till the end of Bellarmine's visit, Leonora had scarce once thought of Horatio; but he now began, though an unwelcome guest, to enter into her mind. She wished she had seen the charming Bellarmine and his charming equipage, before matters had gone so far. "Yet why," says she, "should I wish