conduct I may atone for not devoting my life, as well as my fortune, to the service of my country; and you may walk forth amongst your poor dependent pensioners, brighter and more splendid in the lustre of your charities than if I hung you round with all the jewels of the Lady of Loretto. Let us live hospitably, becomingly, liberally, after the example of my grandfather; but don’t let us make an undistinguishing waste either by our domestic style of living, or by wanton largesses to any, who may not deserve, as well as need, relief. We will support the industrious, who struggle against hard fortune, and the helpless, who would else sink under it; but we will not confound the lazy drone with the laborious bee. And now, beloved of my soul, as I have occupied you with a long homily, and wearied you with a long walk, here is a baiting place to repose in; sit down with me upon this shady bench, and let me read my answer in those heavenly eyes. Oh, my dear sir, replied the fond and happy Amelia, your just and generous sentiments instruct and charm me. Convinced, that by the practice of these virtues you will ensure all that my heart can wish, all that my prayers can ask of Heaven, you give me that supreme delight, which only can be felt, but not described. What can I say to you? What other answer can you look for from your devoted, your betrothed Amelia, but that I am entirely yours? Is it enough to tell you, that I love you, that my whole happiness depends upon you? No; I am not quite convinced, but that the impression, which at our first interview you left so deeply fixed in this poor hopeless heart, would have compelled me to have loved you still, though you had treated me with marked neglect; nay, though you had neglected your own self, and fallen off from that high character in which I now behold you and admire. I felt as if I could have forgiven you every thing: and when you left me for so long a time without a word to soften my despair, I feared indeed that you was lost for ever, but I did not suspect you to be cruel. I knew you was offended with Mrs. Jennings, but I was sorry to find your resentment could be so lasting, and that you would take no pains to acquit me, who was innocent, and set my mind at rest. Morning and night I mused upon the words I heard you utter, when, looking on the portrait of my father, you pledged protection to the orphan who then lived, as she still does, upon the bounty of your family--Is this the man (I said within myself) who threw his arms about me, and pressed me with such rapture to his heart? Was there no meaning in that fond embrace? Did it sink only into my sad heart? Alas, I hoped that his had felt it too!--Thus I tormented my poor wretched self, till now, behold! I am sitting by your side--Nay; hear me out!--I have not told one half--