The bishop, before I could answer, came in quest of her, followed by Laurana, from whom she had forcibly disengaged herself, to come to me. Let me have but one parting interview, my lord, said she, looking to him, and clinging about my neck. He will be gone: gone for ever. Is there so much in being allowed to say, Farewell, and be happy, Grandison! and excuse all the trouble I have given you?--What has my brother's preserver done, what have I done, that I must not see him, nor he me, for one quarter of an hour only? Indeed, my lord, said I, she should be complied with. Indeed she should. My father thinks otherwise, said the bishop: the count thinks otherwise: I think otherwise. Were the chevalier a common man, she might. But she dwells upon what passed in the last interview, and his behaviour to her. That, it is plain, did her harm. The next may drive the thoughts of that out of her head, returned I. Dear Jeronymo, replied he, a little peevishly, you will always think differently from every body else! Mrs. Beaumont comes to-morrow. What do I care for Mrs. Beaumont? said she.--I don't love her: she tells every thing I say. Come, my dear love, said Laurana, you afflict your brother Jeronymo. Let us go up to your own chamber. I afflict every body, and every body afflicts me; and you are all cruel. Why, he will be gone, I tell you! That makes me so impatient: and I have something to say to him. My father won't see me: my mother renounces me. I have been looking for her, and she hides herself from me!--And I am a prisoner, and watched, and used ill! Here comes my mother! said Laurana. You now must go up to your chamber, cousin Clementina. So she does, said she; now I must go, indeed!--Ah, Jeronymo! Now there is no saying nay.--But it is hard! very hard!--And she burst into tears. I won't speak though, said she, to my aunt. Remember, I will be silent, madam!--Then whispering me, My aunt, brother, is not the aunt she used to be to me!--But hush, I don't complain, you know! By this I saw that Lady Sforza was severe with her. She addressed herself to her aunt: You are not my mamma, are you, madam? No, child. No, child, indeed! I know that too well. But my brother Giacomo is as cruel to me as any body. But hush, Jeronymo!--Don't you betray me!--Now my aunt is come, I must go!--I wish I could run away from you all! She was yesterday detected writing a letter to you. My mother was shewn what she had written, and wept over it. My aunt took it out of my sister's bosom, where she had thrust it, on her coming in. This she resented highly. When she was led into her own chamber, she refused to speak; but in great hurry went to her closet, and, taking down her bible, turned over one leaf and another very quick. Lady Sforza had a book in her hand, and sat over-against the closet-door to observe her motions. She came to a place--Pretty! said she.