none of the warmth of friendship, yet he had more confidence in me, and knew he might have, than in any man living; and, notwithstanding the indifference I have described, he frequently trusted me afterwards with secrets that he reserved from his wife and his brother. He no sooner discovered that my intention was to remain in France much longer than he expected, than he broke out into complaints, entreaties, and reproaches: and, as if he had satisfied all the duties of friendship, and I had violated them, he tried with angry words to divert me from my purpose; urged the occasion he should have for my advice, and called my retreat desertion of my friends. Satisfied with making him feel the want of me, and now hardened against the calls of friendship, I treated the matter lightly, civilly, and desultorily. I reminded him of the declaration I had often made of quitting the party as soon as they should be successful, which he could not deny; and, with a little mixture of conscious scorn, I said I knew the obligations the party had had to me; I knew none I had to them. Vexed, and his pride hurt, he employed Lady Ailesbury to tell me in his presence that he looked upon my behaviour as deserting him; and himself dropped many peevish accents. Fixed in the plan I had laid down to myself, nothing could provoke me to be serious; I carried off all with good humour; and, above owing to a retort of reproaches what I ought to have owed to his sentiments, I parted with him with such inflexible, and consequently mysterious, cheerfulness, that he knew not what interpretation to put on my behaviour--if he did guess, he was more blameable than I suspected. His insensibility had made me insensible; his ingratitude would have given me stronger sensations. But it is justice to him to say, that I think he was incapable of ingratitude: his soul was good, virtuous, sincere; but his temper was chill, his mind absent; and he was so accustomed to my suggesting to him whatever I thought it was right for him to do, that he had no notion of my concealing a thought from him; and as I had too much delicacy to mention even my own security, I am persuaded it never came into his conception. His temper hurt me, but I forgave his virtue, of which I am confident, and know it was superior to my own. We have continued to this day on an easy and confidential footing; but conscious that I would not again devote myself for him, I have taken strict care never to give him decisive advice, when it might lead him to a precipice. Before I set out, and as a mark that I meant no breach with him, at the same time to serve another friend, and to wear an air of interest with the Administration which might disguise my dissatisfaction, I desired Mr. Conway to raise Sir Horace Mann, the resident at Florence, to the rank of envoy; which was immediately done. The Bedfords, however, knew me enough to surmise that my retreat was the effect of some dislike