'Mrs Harley,' (said she, archly leering in my face) 'will console you for the departure of Mr Francis.' I smiled without replying. At dinner our visit of the morning was canvassed (Ann had wished me to conceal it, but this I positively refused). Mr Morton spoke of Mrs Harley and her son with great respect, Mrs Morton with a sarcastic sneer, accompanied with a reprimand to her daughter, for the improper liberty she had taken. I quitted the table, immediately after the desert, to stifle my disgust, and, taking a book, wandered into the pleasure grounds, but incapable of fixing my attention, I presently shut my book, and, sauntering slowly on, indulged in a reverie. My melancholy reflections again returned--How could I remain in a house, where I was every day marked out for insult by its mistress--and where was I to dispose of myself? My fortune was insufficient to allow of my boarding in a respectable family. Mrs Harley came across my mind--Amiable woman!--Would she, indeed, accept of my society, and allow me to soften her solitude!--But her income was little less limited than my own--it must not be thought of. I reflected on the inequalities of society, the source of every misery and of every vice, and on the peculiar disadvantages of my sex. I sighed bitterly; and, clasping my hands together, exclaimed, unconsciously-- 'Whither can I go--and where shall I find an asylum?' 'Allow me to propose one,' said a voice, in a soft accent, suddenly, behind me. I started, turned, and beheld Mr Montague. After some expressions of sympathy for the distress which he had witnessed, apologies for his intrusion, and incoherent expressions of respect and regard, he somewhat abruptly offered his hand and heart to my acceptance, with the impetuosity which accompanied all his sentiments and actions; yet, he expressed himself with the air of a man who believes he is conferring an obligation. I thanked him for his generous proposal-- But, as my heart spake not in his favour--'I must be allowed to decline it.' 'That heart,' said he, rudely, 'is already bestowed upon another.' 'Certainly not, Mr Montague; if it were, I would frankly tell you.' He pronounced the name of Mr Francis-- 'Mr Francis is a man for whom I feel a sincere respect and veneration--a man whom I should be proud to call my friend; but a thought beyond that, I dare venture to say, has never occurred to either of us.' He knew not how to conceive--that a woman in my situation, unprepossessed, could reject so advantageous an establishment! This, I told him, was indelicate, both to me and to himself. Were my situation yet more desolate, I would not marry any man, merely for an _establishment_, for whom I did not feel an affection. Would I please to describe to him the model of perfection which I should require in a husband? It was unnecessary; as I saw no probability of the portrait bearing any resemblance to himself.