Do you know I begin to suspect that Mrs. Allen has taken an unfair advantage of me; for seeing since the arrival of the Lisbon packet that my charity is enlarged to "good will to all men," she fancies it admits of no limitation, and that Miss Flint stands a chance of coming in for a share. She has therefore trepanned me into her room so often of late under some pretence or other, that my harp is nearly stationary in her apartment; and if I am to credit Mrs. Allen, it has something of the powers of David's, and from time to time lulls into temporary repose a spirit not less perturbed than poor Saul's. I am not yet an entire convert to Mrs. Allen's creed in favour of repenting sinners, although I can pity them. I cannot exactly think with her, that they deserve our peculiar commiseration and tenderness, still adhering to the maxim of, "as you sow, so must you reap." But I am becoming more placable, and more worthy of you; and I am going to read to Miss Flint an hour or two; for to tell you the truth, I do relent when I behold her writhing with pain. The total loss of the limb she hurt, would be nothing to the exquisite pain she suffers in the means used for its cure. Mary will think this a penalty sufficiently severe for the discipline she gave to her niece, and I may as well confess, that I am of the same opinion. Heaven bless you, and remember in your prayers your Rachel Cowley. CHAP XI. LETTER XXVIII. _From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle._ "Six mails due from Lisbon! and yet Rachel Cowley talks with contentment of the _celestial weather_!" To be sure she does, my dear Miss Hardcastle, and for the simplest reason on earth. If _I_ be disappointed, Horace is _not_; and I can subsist upon his happiness, and be thankful. Besides, it is something in my favour to reflect, that the very elements can be _obstinate_ as well as myself. You tell me, that it is begun to be suspected, that my rejection of my Jamaica pretender, with my refusal of Sir George's reiterated and _generous_ offers, arise from some engagement of a tender kind between Horace and myself. Be so good as to inform the good people who so carefully qualify their words, that _I am engaged_, that I make no secret of my engagement, and that in defiance of Lady Coldstream's lecture to me at ten years old, I still love, _passionately love_, Horace Hardcastle, and almond biscuits. I remember perfectly the solemnity of her face when she observed that "young ladies were to love nothing _passionately_." It may therefore be as well to inform her, that I only love _obstinately_; if such it must be thought, to prefer that virtue which has rendered me virtuous. If to cherish an affection resulting from the best gifts of nature, and sanctioned by my reason and principles, be to be culpable, I am of all women most to be censured and condemned; for I glory in my shame, and rejoice at my defeat. But you will say, that even Horace Hardcastle must