“No, Ma’am! appearing surprised at my question, from Suffolk.” You will think this a good dash of mine my dear Mary, but you know that I am not wanting for Impudence when I have any end in veiw. “Are you pleased with the Country Miss Grenville? Do you find it equal to the one you have left?” “Much superior Ma’am in point of Beauty.” She sighed. I longed to know for why. “But the face of any Country however beautiful said I, can be but a poor consolation for the loss of one’s dearest Freinds.” She shook her head, as if she felt the truth of what I said. My Curiosity was so much raised, that I was resolved at any rate to satisfy it. “You regret having left Suffolk then Miss Grenville?” “Indeed I do.” “You were born there I suppose?” “Yes Ma’am I was and passed many happy years there—” “That is a great comfort—said I—I hope Ma’am that you never spent any _un_happy one’s there.” “Perfect Felicity is not the property of Mortals, and no one has a right to expect uninterrupted Happiness.—_Some_ Misfortunes I have certainly met with.” “_What_ Misfortunes dear Ma’am? replied I, burning with impatience to know every thing. “_None_ Ma’am I hope that have been the effect of any wilfull fault in me.” “I dare say not Ma’am, and have no doubt but that any sufferings you may have experienced could arise only from the cruelties of Relations or the Errors of Freinds.” She sighed—“You seem unhappy my dear Miss Grenville—Is it in my power to soften your Misfortunes?” “_Your_ power Ma’am replied she extremely surprised; it is in _no ones_ power to make me happy.” She pronounced these words in so mournfull and solemn an accent, that for some time I had not courage to reply. I was actually silenced. I recovered myself however in a few moments and looking at her with all the affection I could, “My dear Miss Grenville said I, you appear extremely young—and may probably stand in need of some one’s advice whose regard for you, joined to superior Age, perhaps superior Judgement might authorise her to give it. I am that person, and I now challenge you to accept the offer I make you of my Confidence and Freindship, in return to which I shall only ask for yours—” “You are extremely obliging Ma’am—said she—and I am highly flattered by your attention to me—But I am in no difficulty, no doubt, no uncertainty of situation in which any advice can be wanted. Whenever I am however continued she brightening into a complaisant smile, I shall know where to apply.” I bowed, but felt a good deal mortified by such a repulse; still however I had not given up my point. I found that by the appearance of sentiment and Freindship nothing was to be gained and determined therefore to renew my attacks by Questions and suppositions. “Do you intend staying long in this part of England Miss Grenville?” “Yes Ma’am, some time I beleive.” “But how will Mr and Mrs Grenville bear your absence?”