But to return to Davenport: on the subsequent morning, I ordered my horse very early intending to pass an hour with Arabella, when a servant informed me Mr. Davenport and a lady requested to see me. I hurried down stairs, to chide Mr. Davenport for suffering Arabella (supposing it must be her) to hazard an increase of her disorder, by coming out while the air was raw and cold, and the morning fog not yet dispelled. I opened the parlour door with the reproof almost ready on my lips, when Davenport, with his eyes glistening, his cheeks glowing, seized my hand and placed it within that of a young lady, who kissed it, and with mingled ardour and pleasure pressed it to her bosom. Surprised, I stepped back; and, looking alternately at her and at Davenport, a strong resemblance anticipated his introduction of a sister. This sister, whom Davenport had forgotten in his misfortunes, was newly married; and had arrived at Bath the preceding evening, with her husband, a merchant of the name of Beville. Davenport had related the scenes he had passed through in those glowing colours whose use is so familiar to him; and the whole family were disposed to think I had rendered them an important service. Accepting Mrs. Beville's invitation to dinner, I was that day introduced also to Mr. Beville and Miss Harriot Davenport. Davenport's feelings are ever alive to extremes. He was now in the bosom of his family. He saw his sister no longer the humble dependent of a proud relation, but the wife of an affectionate opulent husband, sharing her advantages too with his other sister. Then, how could Davenport look at them and remember either what he had been or might yet be. He was extravagant; sometimes brilliant, but always fanciful; and the incoherencies of his conversation formed an amusing contrast with the steady uniform bluntness of Mr. Beville. He was even too gay to be grateful; for, instead of thanking his brother-in-law for an offer of taking him into immediate partnership, in preference to the plan I had proposed, on terms so liberal as brought tears from his sister's eyes, Davenport began to ridicule and burlesque trade. He was determined for this afternoon at least to enjoy his mirth in defiance of the checks, instigations, or reproaches of the better inmates sincerity and common sense. Poor fellow! The grimace, the laugh, the jest reign no longer; for Arabella cannot live! Perfectly satisfied with the prospects of her Henry, with his affection for her child, and the present attentions of his family to her, she calmly looks forward to that abode where the _wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest_; while he suffers ten thousand agonies in anticipating their eternal separation.