“It is not only this incertitude that makes me uneasy; the Countess loves me because she cannot help it. Can a love which I do not owe to a voluntary attachment render me happy?” “How you are roving! what ought to make you proud and happy damps your spirits. What was it that impelled Amelia irresistibly to love you? can it have been any thing else but the consciousness of your perfections, and an irresistible sympathy which has united your hearts; and what can be more desirable, what more sincere and durable than such bonds? My Lord, love has done every thing for you, and you have done nothing for love. Disclose to Amelia your sentiments, communicate to her your tenderness, and her involuntary attachment to you will soon be changed into a voluntary passion.” “My dearest friend! My comforter!” I exclaimed, “what friendly genius is it that speaks through you, and animates my whole nature?” “The genius of love--I have loved too, and know how to advise in affairs of the heart. But tell me sincerely, my Lord, would your father consent to a match beneath your dignity?” “It would be of no consequence if he should not; I am Duke.” “I understand you; however I fear Amelia would never consent to a union which should be destitute of the benediction of the Marquis of Villa**al.” “My father loves me, and he will never oppose his only son in a matter upon which depends the happiness of his life.” “Well then! I will leave you to your good fortune. I shall not fail to contribute as much as is in my power to promote that union. However, (added she with dignity) I expect from your candour, that you will not misinterpret my interview with you, and the interest I take in that affair.” “I look upon it as a proof of your inestimable friendship.” “O! my children!” the Countess resumed with great emotion, “I love you as a mother. I could not bear any longer that two people, who seem to have been born for each other, should misunderstand one another in a manner so tormenting to both of you. You will render Amelia happy, my Lord, or I am dreadfully mistaken in my opinion of you. With this hope I put the fate of my friend entirely in your hands. I confide to your care an angel, whose early improvement was my work; and constitutes my pride, and whose perfections you scarcely know by half. I entrust to you a being of the purest and most excellent of hearts. Conclude from this, upon the confidence I repose in you.” “I shall endeavour to deserve it.” “Retire now, else we shall be surprised by Amelia; but take care not to make her suspect our interview and conversation. You even must not visit us this evening earlier than usual.”