"Great God!" cried I, in a transport of joy, clasping my hands together, "have then my prayers been heard! do I again behold her!" But my situation recurring to my imagination; the dangers which I had unnecessarily engaged myself in for the morrow; her disguise; the unprotected state in which I should leave her, in a camp, where too much licentiousness reigned; all these ideas took instant possession of my mind, and damped the rising joy her loved presence had at first excited. The agonizing pangs which seized me are past description. "Oh! my God!" I exclaimed in the bitterness of soul, "why did we thus meet! Better,--Oh! how much better would it have been, that my eyes had closed in death, than, to see all they adored thus exposed to the horrid misery and carnage of destructive war." The conflict became too powerful; and in all the energy of woe I threw myself on the ground. Poor Maria flung herself on a seat, and covered her face in her great coat.--Audible sobs burst from her bosom--I saw the convulsive heavings, and the sight was as daggers to me.--I crawled on my knees to her, and, bending over her,--"Oh! my Maria!" said I, "these pangs I feel for you; speak to me, my only love; if possible, ease my sufferings by thy heavenly welcome voice."--She uttered not a word; I sought to find her hand; she pushed me gently from her, then rising,--"Come, thou companion of my tedious and painful travel, come, my faithful Hannah," said she, to one I had not before taken notice of, who stood in the entrance of the tent, "let us be gone, here we are unwelcome visitors. Is it thus," continued she, lifting up her hands to heaven, "is it thus I am received? Adieu! Grenville! My love has still pursued you with unremitting constancy: but it shall be your torment no longer. I will no longer tax your compassion for a fond wretch, who perhaps deserves the scorn she meets." She was leaving the tent. I was immoveably rooted to the ground while she spake.--I caught her by the coat. "Oh! leave me not, dearest of women, leave me not! You know not the love and distress which tear this wretched bosom by turns. Injure me not, by doubting the first,--and if you knew the latter, you would find me an object intitled to your utmost pity. Oh! that my heart was laid open to your view! then would you see it had wasted with anguish on the supposition of your death. Yes, Maria, I thought you dead. I had a too exalted idea of your worth to assign any other cause; I never called you cruel, or doubted your faith. Your memory lived in my fond breast, such as my tenderness painted you. But you can think meanly of me, and put the most ungenerous construction on the severest affliction that ever tore the heart of man."