Sir George had previou&longs;ly given his valet Le Brun
an order to make inquiries obliquely concerning the
fair reclu&longs;e, whom he had &longs;een at the window in the
garden, and now retired with the eager expectation of
hearing &longs;omething of her.

“Well, Le Brun,” &longs;aid he, “what news? Can you
learn whether the fair &longs;pirit of the garden haunts it continually,
or only &longs;ometimes?”

“Oh, Mon&longs;ieur,” &longs;aid Le Brun, “I did a&longs;k Mademoiselle
Harley. Oh! &longs;he be one ver pret voman;
&longs;he never refu&longs;e me any thing. She be von jolie petite
fille.”

“Good Mon&longs;ieur,” &longs;aid Sir George, “defer the
account of your own &longs;ucce&longs;s till another opportunity,
and inform me of what you have heard.”

“Dat be vat I vas intend, my Lor. Mademoi&longs;elle
Harley tell me dat my Lady, your moder, keep von
ver charmante demoi&longs;ell, to play, to read, to &longs;ing to
her ven &longs;he be alone; but ven your onor, or any company,
be com, my Lady do &longs;hut her up.”

“And who does Harley &longs;ay &longs;he is?”

“Oh! ma &longs;oi; &longs;he be de daughter of a pauvre old
man, who vas one &longs;oldier. He live in Lincoln&longs;hire;
de call her Mademoi&longs;elle Rebecca—.”

“And does &longs;he con&longs;tantly occupy tho&longs;e apartments
in the &longs;outh wing?”

“Ouè, Mon&longs;ieur, ouè, and &longs;he valk every morning
in de garden by de time de &longs;un be up.”

This was enough for Sir George. He di&longs;mi&longs;&longs;ed Le
Brun, and determined to ri&longs;e by times him&longs;elf, and
join Rebecca in the garden.

In the mean time Rebecca's thoughts were fully

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

employed in reflecting on the unexpected incident
which had thrown her in the way of the very man
whom it was her intere&longs;t to wi&longs;h to avoid. “It was
unfortunate,” &longs;aid &longs;he, “very unfortunate, that I
&longs;hould have opened the window at that time; if Lady
Mary was to know I had &longs;een and conver&longs;ed with her
&longs;on, it would make her very unhappy, and yet how
&longs;hall I ever be able to face her after having, though involuntarily,
tran&longs;gre&longs;&longs;ed the only re&longs;triction &longs;he thought
fit to lay upon me? Will it not be be&longs;t to watch the
moment when &longs;he retires to her apartment, to go to her,
candidly confe&longs;s the accidental rencounter, and endeavour
to deprecate the anger I mu&longs;t otherwi&longs;e expect to
encounter? Yes, it will certainly be right; my kind
generous Lady Mary &longs;hall never have occa&longs;ion to accu&longs;e
me of want of &longs;incerity.”

When &longs;he had formed this re&longs;olution, her thoughts
again reverted to the elegant accompli&longs;hed manner, and
fine per&longs;on of Sir George, again in idea &longs;he recalled
every &longs;entence he had uttered, and innocently indulged
the fa&longs;cinating reflexion un&longs;u&longs;pecting of the consequence.

The clock had ju&longs;t &longs;truck eleven when Rebecca heard
the foot&longs;tep of Lady Mary on the &longs;tairs. She heard
her enter her dre&longs;&longs;ing room, and then, with palpitating
heart, pre&longs;ented her&longs;elf at the door of the apartment,
and, by a gentle tap, demanded admittance.

Mrs. Harley opened the door; pale, trembling, her
eyes ca&longs;t on the ground, the agitated Rebecca entered,
and courte&longs;ying, in a manner in which the &longs;oul &longs;eemed
to bow more than the body, attempted an apology for
the untimely intru&longs;ion.

“Come in, my love,” &longs;aid Lady Mary, then looking
at her face &longs;he continued, “Are you not well, Rebecca,
or has any thing alarmed you?”

Your goodne&longs;s, Madam, overpowers me,” &longs;aid Rebecca
&longs;eating her&longs;elf; “my mind is not quite at ca&longs;e,
and, if you have a few moments to &longs;pare, I &longs;hould be
glad to communicate &longs;omething to you, without any
witne&longs;s to our conver&longs;ation.”

“Harley,” &longs;aid her lady&longs;hip, “I &longs;hall not go to hed

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

ju&longs;t yet, and will ring when I want you. (Harley retired)
“And now, my dear, what is this mighty secret?”
taking Rebecca's hand.

“I am come my deare&longs;t Lady,” &longs;aid &longs;he, ri&longs;ing “to
inform you, that I have, though unde&longs;ignedly, broken
your injunctions, and incurred your di&longs;plea&longs;ure: let me,
therefore Madam, expiate my offence, by being banished
from this delightful place, and from your truly
valuable &longs;ociety. Send me back, Madam, to my humble
home; but, oh! I conjure you, do not deprive me
of your friend&longs;hip and good opinion, which I value infinitely
more than any other earthly good.”

“You &longs;urpri&longs;e me my dear child! I am at a lo&longs;s to
comprehend your meaning. From the whole tenor of
your conduct, &longs;ince you have been here, I am convinced,
that, if you have offended me, the fault was involuntary,
indeed. Come, come, do not look &longs;o grave:
I &longs;uppo&longs;e this amazing &longs;ault, when revealed, will be
di&longs;covered a very trifle. You have let my favourite canary
out of its cage, or you have broke one of the large
India jars.”

“Ah! my dear Lady, wor&longs;e, infinitely wor&longs;e, I
have &longs;een Sir George. Now, pray do not look angry;
indeed, he is the fir&longs;t and only per&longs;on I have &longs;een &longs;ince
my arrival here; nor did I &longs;eek the interview.”

“Do not alarm your&longs;elf thus, my love,” &longs;aid Lady
Mary, obliging her to &longs;it down again. “Come, compose
your &longs;pirits, and tell me &longs;incerely how it happened,
what pa&longs;&longs;ed between you, and what you think of my
&longs;on?”

“Oh! I think him,” &longs;aid Rebecca, the mo&longs;t engaging
young man I ever &longs;aw; he has &longs;uch a manly
look, yet &longs;uch a &longs;oft air and voice.”

“Indeed!” &longs;aid her Lady&longs;hip, gravely, “and pray
what might he &longs;ay to you?”

“Ah! Madam, it would be vanity in me to repeat
all he &longs;aid, he &longs;poke &longs;o many fine things.”

“It is well Rebecca, I &longs;ee you &longs;till retain that candour
and &longs;incerity for which I ever loved you. I am
fully &longs;atisfied that this interview was not &longs;ought on your
&longs;ide, nor can I &longs;uppo&longs;e it was on his. You &longs;eem to

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

entertain a very favourable idea of Sir George, and I
make no doubt but he does the &longs;ame of you; but do
not from this indulge any vain hopes that you can ever
be any thing to each other. Young men of a certain
rank in life, do not frequently match them&longs;elves with
their inferiors, yet they will leave no art une&longs;&longs;ayed to
awaken &longs;en&longs;ibility in the heart of every woman whom
they affect to admire. Will you make me one promi&longs;e,
Rebecca, and, without re&longs;erve, ever remember to keep
it inviolate.”

“Dear Madam, do you, can you, doubt me?
Speak your commands; I am &longs;ure they will not be severe,
and when I di&longs;obey you, from that moment may
peace and joy be &longs;trangers to my bo&longs;om.”

“Then promi&longs;e me, my dear, that you will never,
directly, nor indirectly, li&longs;ten to any overtures of love
which Sir George may make, or give him the lea&longs;t encouragement;
and while you keep the promi&longs;e &longs;acred,
may every earthly happine&longs;s &longs;urround you; and &longs;hould
you ever feel inclined to break it, reflect it is the only
thing which you can do to wound the peace of a woman
who loves you as her own child.”

“Then hear me, Madam,” &longs;aid Rebecca, “while
I &longs;olemnly prote&longs;t, that never, while I retain my &longs;en&longs;es,
will I li&longs;ten to any profe&longs;&longs;ion of love whatever from your
&longs;on. The grateful affection I bear towards your Ladyship
will prompt me to keep this vow inviolable, had
I no other motive; but, my dear Lady, I have two
powerful rea&longs;ons for never infringing it. The fir&longs;t, I
tru&longs;t you will believe, is an invincible repugnance inherent
in my bo&longs;om to every thing derogatory to the
dignity and honour of my &longs;ex, and which will urge me
to treat with &longs;corn every overture that tended to the
injury of either:—And for the other, pardon me, Madam,
I feel my inferiority, nay, feel it &longs;o powerfully,
that I will never meanly creep into a family who would
think them&longs;elves di&longs;honoured by the alliance.”

“My dear good girl,” &longs;aid Lady Mary, embracing
her, “I honour you for this &longs;pirited reply. You
would not di&longs;honour any family; but I never was a
friend to unequal matches; they are &longs;eldom productive

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

of much felicity; be&longs;ides, my &longs;on is the de&longs;tined husband
of another.”

Rebecca heard her in &longs;ilence, &longs;ighed, and was preparing
to leave the apartment. “Stay, my love,”
&longs;aid Lady Mary, “though you have charmed me by
the frankne&longs;s and candour of your behaviour, I am not
&longs;atisfied, but that George will attempt to &longs;ee you again;
&longs;hall I reque&longs;t my dear girl will keep intirely in her
apartment to-morrow, and avoid going to the windows,
and in the evening a chai&longs;e &longs;hall be ordered to the back
garden gate. My own man James &longs;hall attend you,
and you may proceed one &longs;tage on your journey towards
Lincoln&longs;hire that night. James will take particular
care of you, and &longs;ee you &longs;afe at your father's hou&longs;e,
where you can pay them a &longs;hort vi&longs;it till I join you,
which will be in about three weeks time.” She then
put a heavy pur&longs;e into her hand, bade her con&longs;ider it
as her own, and then wi&longs;hed her a good night: but
calling her back, as &longs;he was about to leave the room,
&longs;he de&longs;ired her to be careful what &longs;he &longs;aid to Harley,
and in particular to avoid mentioning her intended
journey.

“Is it pride?” &longs;aid Rebecca, as &longs;he retired to re&longs;t:
“Or is it a tender wi&longs;h for my felicity, that actuates
Lady Mary? Surely it is the latter. Her liberality,
her conde&longs;cending affection, all tend to convince me
it is my happine&longs;s alone &longs;he is &longs;tudious to pre&longs;erve:
and never &longs;hall it be &longs;aid that Rebecca Littleton, like
the ungrateful viper, &longs;tung the friendly bo&longs;om that
warmed her into life; for, &longs;urely, the cultivation of
our mental faculties, the enlargement of our ideas, is
a &longs;econd, nay a better life than what we receive from
nature, and this life I have received from my revered
benefactre&longs;s. What delightful &longs;ources of plea&longs;urable
amu&longs;ement has &longs;he opened to my view! How inestimable
the benefits I have received from her hand! Then
her thoughts reverting to Sir George, &longs;he continued,
“Surely the &longs;on of &longs;uch a mother mu&longs;t be all that is
good and amiable, and it is not infringing my vow to
love him as a brother. Ah! how happy will be the
partner he &longs;hall choo&longs;e, nay, that he has cho&longs;en; for

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

did not his mother &longs;ay his de&longs;tiny was fixed? May their
felicity be as la&longs;ting as their lives! May every earthly
ble&longs;&longs;ing crown them! May heaven &longs;hower down its
bounties on their heads, that their joys may render
completely happy the heart of my kind, my generous
Lady Mary!”

Then lifting up her &longs;oul, in its nightly addre&longs;s, to
the Throne of Grace, &longs;he blended the name of Sir
George with that of his mother, and &longs;unk into that
peaceful kind of &longs;lumber, which only innocence, like
her's, can enjoy.