You may judge of the difficulties I had to encounter in this period of my life; and the condition to which I was reduced by _a brother’s_ reminding me, from time to time, that it was best for me to be “_prudent_.” There was little need of a conscience like mine to draw the inference; his tone and manner were sufficient, and he repeatedly roused Lucretia to stand forth as my champion, on a ground which had made me a coward, and the slave of the wretch who had led me into the crooked path. “Her conduct was, at least, uniformly generous on this point,” continued Lady Maclairn; “she never, directly nor indirectly, mentioned Duncan, nor did I, till very lately, know to what extent her knowledge went of this unhappy affair. I breathed like one freed from death, when I found that Mr. Flamall had determined to leave England with Philip. From the time I had the unfortunate Mr. Duncan’s narrative before me, my soul abhorred the sight of my brother; and I so entirely secluded myself in my husband’s apartment, that we did not meet twice in a week, and his reserve and coldness when we did, went not beyond mine. Again, my dear Miss Cowley, truth obliges me to give a good report of Miss Flint. In proportion as my spirits flagged she redoubled her attention to my wants, and her purse was ever open to me. I believe, that my brother’s reason for going to Jamaica, originally sprung from a serious quarrel with Lucretia. The death of his wicked wife left him free to marry, and he was very pressing on that subject with Miss Flint. Lucretia had her secrets as well as myself; but accident led me within reach of hearing her say, “Never; urge me no further; for by all that is sacred, if you do, Percival shall know all.” I retreated, fearing to be discovered; and, from that time, his voyage was mentioned as a decided matter. After my brother’s departure, Lucretia fatigued me with her importunities, to draw me from my husband’s room.” “I should have a servant to watch him; and one I could rely on, although it cost her an hundred pounds _per annum_.” I was firm, and she submitted. Left to herself, she thought of her niece, and I was consulted on the expediency of her inviting this poor girl to live with her; I was distressed for a reply; knowing the bitter resentment which she had nourished even to the name of Howard; and her hatred to those who had sheltered this unfortunate and excellent couple. I evaded the question as well as I could, contenting myself with observing, that I had always thought it an act of duty on her part to take care of her niece. “I am willing to do so;” answered she colouring; “but I must first know what she is good for; and whether the people with whom she lives have not taught her to believe I am a monster.” I saw the rising storm, and timidly shrunk from it, saying, that I could not give her my advice, without incurring the censure of being swayed by a sordid consideration for my reputed son. “But you know,” added I, “that you can