The whole convocated clergy could not more effectually, nor more authoritatively, have preached to me, than did the recollection of this lesson, and _the occasion_ which gave rise to it. My part was now chosen, and I whispered to Mrs. Heartley, on the service being concluded, that I could not be with her till the tea hour. On going down the aisle, the poor and truly crest-fallen Miss Flint was obliged to proceed slowly; she is very lame. Amidst the half-whispered praises of the beautiful niece, who preceded her, she overheard one old woman say, "Aye, aye, she is like her parents, her's is not the beauty of a day; like them, she will be an angel in heaven!" Miss Flint looked distressed. "Lean on me, my dear Madam," said I aloud, and in an endearing tone, "do not hurry." She pressed my arm with emotion; and on reaching the carriage, wept so bitterly that I dreaded lest she should have an hysteric fit: her tears were, however, its preventive; and when somewhat more composed, she requested me to give the servant the order to stop at the Abbey. I answered, with the compassion she had excited, that I should not go; adding, "Let us extend our ride, the morning is favourable, and the air will be useful to you." I pulled the check-string; and we proceeded. The poor humiliated woman felt, I believe, this kindness, as also my attempts to divert her. These succeeded so well, that she dined in the parlour; and on quitting us to rest for an hour, asked us to drink our tea in her apartment. I pleaded my engagement; she coloured, and said, "Then, to-morrow?"--"Willingly," replied I, taking that _hard_ and burning hand in mine, which had been my _horror_, "on condition that I find you here at supper-time this evening." She bowed, unable to speak, and with Warner's help and her stick, left the room. Lady Maclairn, who had attended her, returned in a few minutes, saying, that Lucretia was trying to get a nap; and cheerfully turning to me, she observed with a smile, that if in time she hated the Heartleys, as cordially as Mr. Snughead did, I should be answerable for the injustice. "How so?" asked I.--"They monopolise too much of our comfort," replied she, "and you may, if you please, warn them of the danger to which your partiality exposes them."--"You would act much more consistently," replied I gaily, "to warn them yourself; and by your influence with them, weaken mine. Why do you persist," added I, with earnestness, "in depriving yourself of a society so formed for you? Why will you refuse to visit those whom you esteem?"--"I cannot act otherwise, Miss Cowley," answered she, with seriousness; "I would visit them, were it possible for me so to do without infringing upon what I think a duty."--"You will pardon me," replied I, "for renewing a subject, on which you have before so decidedly given a negative, in consequence of the motive which at this time prompted me to recall it: this suggestion of my