Let me know, my dear Dr. Bartlett, that Miss Byron is happy. I rejoice, whatever be my own destiny, that I have not involved her in my uncertainties. The Countess of D---- is a worthy woman: the earl, her son, is a good young man: Miss Byron merits such a mother; the countess such a daughter. How dear, how important, is her welfare to me!--You know your Grandison, my good Dr. Bartlett. Her friendship I presumed to ask: I dared not to wish to correspond with her. I rejoice, for her sake, that I trusted not my heart with such a proposal. What difficulties, my dear friend, have I had to encounter with!--God be praised, that I have nothing, with regard to these two incomparable women, to reproach myself with. I am persuaded that our prudence, if rashly we throw not ourselves into difficulties, and if we will exert it, and make a reliance on the proper assistance, is generally proportioned to our trials. I asked the marchioness after Lady Sforza, and her daughter Laurana; and whether they were at Milan? You have heard, no doubt, answered she, the cruel treatment that my poor child met with from her cousin Laurana. Lady Sforza justifies her in it. We are upon extreme bad terms, on that account. They are both at Milan. The general has vowed, that he never will see them more, if he can avoid it. The bishop, only as a Christian, can forgive them. You, chevalier, know the reason why we cannot allow our Clementina to take the veil. The particular reasons I have not, madam, been inquisitive about; but have always understood them to be family ones, grounded on the dying request of one of her grandfathers.