In the meantime, said John De Lancaster, Edward and I must be measuring back our solitary way by sea and land, deprived of that agreeable society, which we enjoyed on our passage hither. Events, which we could not foresee, and which produce sensations and reflections of a very opposite nature, have contributed to dismiss me from the duty of a longer stay, and a very little time will now release from any further trouble these generous friends, whose benevolence has given us shelter; and as I despair of ever expressing to Mr. Devereux the full sense I entertain of the kindness and consolation I have received under the protection of this charitable roof, I must rely upon the friend I leave behind me to take every occasion for bearing witness to my gratitude, till we may all have the happiness of meeting once more in our native land; a happiness, which I hope is in reserve for every one of us. I have secured my passage in the pacquet, now on her return to England. My first duty will be to deposit the mournful charge, that providence has been pleased to lay upon me, in the burial-place of my family. There are two benevolent old men, anxiously expecting me, both far advanced in years, between whom and me there is now a broken link in the chain, that leaves, alas! to them but a precarious and short hold on life. Your gallant father, my dear Henry, is, you know, and ever has been, as my father also; and for my aunt Cecilia, what I feel towards her, is only short of absolute idolatry. Here as our hero seemed about to pause, Edward, who had watched him with a pleased attention, said--John, you have gratified us much with this account of your own feelings for a family of love, whom when you speak of thus, by honouring them, you at the same time reflect most honour on yourself. But is there not another in your thoughts--aye, in your heart, my friend, of whom you have not spoken? Come, let us--let me at least--hear me of the lovely, the beloved Amelia. Ah, why name her? De Lancaster replied. Why tell the Major soldiers are courageous? What news to him? He knows it, and he feels it? Why tell Miss Devereux, women may be charming, and men be charmed? She knows it, and we feel it. If love be named in any lady’s hearing, it should be love particular, not general--How am I sure, if I should speak of love in any way that I can speak, the topick would be pleasing to Miss Devereux, who has such powers to inspire it, but may not want to be told any thing of those, who feel it? I understand you, sir, Maria replied: You are very civil, and a little sly: But be assured, of all the topicks you could single out most grateful to my ears, and perhaps most correspondent with my feelings, would be a fair account without reserve of your love (which I am sure is honourable love) for the lady of your choice, of whose perfections I can’t doubt; and as for beauty I’ll take George’s word for that; he speaks in rapture of the fair Amelia.