Amidst these meditations the thoughts of Dorilaus frequently intervened: she reflected on the obligations she had to him, and the mighty difference between the morals of that truly noble and generous man, and most of those she had seen at mrs. C----ge's: she wondered at herself at the antipathy she had to him as a husband, whom she so dearly loved and honoured as a friend; yet nothing could make her wish to be again on the same terms with him she had lately been. It also greatly added to her affliction that she knew not how to direct to her brother; for at the time of his departure, little suspicious of having any occasion to change the place of her abode, she had left the care of that entirely to Dorilaus. She was one morning very much lost in thought on the odd circumstances of her fortune, when a Gazette happening to lye upon the table, she cast her eye, without design, upon the following advertisement. 'Whereas a young gentlewoman has lately thought fit to abscond from her best friends, and with the most diligent search that could possibly be made after her has not yet been heard of, this is to acquaint her that if she pleases to return, she shall hereafter have no disturbance of that nature which it is supposed occasioned her withdrawing herself, but live entirely according to her own inclinations; and this the advertiser hereof gives his word and honour (neither of which she has any cause to doubt) faithfully to adhere to.' 'It shall also be at her choice to live either at the house she quitted, or to be again under the care of that gentlewoman who was entrusted with her education: she is therefore requested to conceal herself no longer, lest her youth, beauty, and inexperience of the town should betray her innocence into those very snares she fears to fall into.' The very beginning of this paragraph gave her a conjecture it was meant for no other than herself; and the more she read, the more she grew convinced, of it.--It must be so, cryed she; every word,--every circumstance confirms it.--How unhappy am I that I cannot return so perfect an affection!--Instead of detesting my ingratitude, he only fears I should receive the punishment of it.--What man but Dorilaus would behave thus to the creature of his benevolence?--If I have any merits, do not I owe them to his goodness?--My brother and myself, two poor exposed and wretched foundlings, what but his bounty rear'd us to what we are?--Hard fate!--unlucky passion that drives me from his presence and protection. Yet, would she say again, if he has indeed subdued that passion;--if he resolves to think of me as before he entertained it; if I were certain he would receive me as a child, how great would be, the blessing!