“My dearest Collings,” said our hero, “whatever I can do to atone for the injury, and to gratify affection, shall be performed. My means are not great, but I trust they will increase. I understand there is a considerable market for literary efforts in this place; I am not without hopes of rising by such exercises; and my dear Jenny shall share all the fruits of my labours.” “Mr. Hamilton,” said the young lady, “in what way you mean that proposal, I am very anxious to know: in one way, in my rank, and after my indiscretion, I cannot flatter myself it is intended; in another, though my conduct justifies it, still I am grieved that you should make such an offer.” Here she burst into a paroxysm of affliction, exclaiming in hysterical shrieks: “I am ruined, but will not be your mistress.” Our hero, tenderly affected, disavowed any such intention, and, with a high sense of retributive justice, and of compassion for a misfortune caused by himself, went farther than in the calm moments of prudence he would have proposed, and actually declared that he would by marriage atone for the evil. Miss Collings answered, “No, sir, I am charmed to find that the man whom I have trusted so far beyond the bounds of prudence and honour should prove himself worthy of any trust that can be honourably reposed in; but I will not avail myself of a generosity that would be ruinous to yourself. Poor Jenny Collings, the daughter of a lowly mechanic, shall not be the wife of the noble gentleman that she doats on to distraction. I know my own business well, and can by it earn the means of subsisting myself, and lending aid to my mother and her orphan children. Mr. Hamilton, I love you too well to hear an offer dictated by pity, or at best the feeling gratitude of a kind heart.” “No, upon my soul,” said Hamilton, “’tis love for the woman who possesses so many charms, and, highest of them all, such an affection for myself.”