I wish to go to Mrs. Melbourne's a&longs;&longs;embly,
next week, if agreeable to you, my dear, &longs;aid a woman,
who was walking through the park with a
man who&longs;e appearance &longs;poke him the gentleman.

She was a pretty-looking per&longs;on; her countenance
was open and engaging, and there was a mild
air of tender melancholy diffu&longs;ed over it.

She led by the hand a beautiful girl, about four
or five years old; and a &longs;miling boy, &longs;eemingly a
year or two older, was &longs;kipping, with &longs;teps as light
as his own innocent heart, before them —that man,
&longs;aid I, mu&longs;t &longs;urely be happy.

[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]

I examined his countenance with a &longs;crutinizing
eye, and methought I read in it indifference and inattention;
nay, he even &longs;eemed unea&longs;y in the company
of his wife and lovely children.

—I &longs;hould like to go to Mrs. Melbourne's assembly,
&longs;aid &longs;he, putting her hand under his arm,
and giving him a look of tenderne&longs;s—it was a look
I know not well how to de&longs;cribe; it was a mixture
of affection and gentle &longs;olicitude; it was that
kind of look my Emma ever a&longs;&longs;umes when &longs;he has
any little favour to a&longs;k, and it always carries with
it &longs;uch per&longs;ua&longs;ive eloquence, that for my &longs;oul I
could not refu&longs;e, though &longs;he were to reque&longs;t the
half of my fortune.

You want new cloaths too, I &longs;uppo&longs;e, &longs;aid he,
rather &longs;urlily.

I thought you might make it convenient to let
me have my half-years &longs;tipend, &longs;aid &longs;he, mildly;
and you know, my dear, I never exceed it.

Very well, Madam, I hear enough of your œconomy,
&longs;aid he, withdrawing his arm in anger; but
I tell you I have no money for my&longs;elf, and therefore
cannot let you have any.—I do not &longs;ee why
you &longs;hould go to Mrs. Melbourne's; you may find
employment and amu&longs;ement too in nur&longs;ing your
brats; home is the fitte&longs;t place for women.

I will not go, Mr. Selby, if you de&longs;ire I &longs;hould
not.

There, now, make a merit of &longs;taying at home to
oblige me, when you cannot go becau&longs;e I will not
give you money to lavi&longs;h in finery. The education
of your children co&longs;ts me &longs;o much that I intend
for the future to reduce your allowance to half what
it u&longs;ed to be.

Very well, my dear, you are the be&longs;t judge of

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what you can afford; I &longs;hall always have your interest
too much at heart to repine at being deprived
of a few &longs;uperfluities which I can ea&longs;ily do without.

By this time they were arrived at Spring Gardens,
where an hand&longs;ome chariot was waiting.

I am engaged out this evening, &longs;aid he, handing
her into the carriage.

Shall I &longs;ee you at &longs;upper? &longs;aid &longs;he, again assuming
the look of &longs;olicitude; but it was far more anxious
than the former.

No—perhaps I &longs;hall not return all night, &longs;aid
he; and immediately left her without even the
common form of civility.

Drive on, &longs;aid &longs;he, to the coachman; and as the
carriage moved, I &longs;aw her apply her handkerchief
to her eyes.

Poor woman! &longs;aid I; at that in&longs;tant feeling the
drop of pity &longs;tart into my own.—Poor woman!
thou art &longs;urrounded with wealth, have a number of
&longs;ervants, and, no doubt, for the&longs;e advantages, are
the object of envy in the eyes of many; but, alas!
the poor cottager, who&longs;e man&longs;ion appears the habitation
of poverty, who has ju&longs;t &longs;et by her wheel,
and is feeding a number of cherry-cheeked, curlypated,
ragged children, who&longs;e hu&longs;band, returning
from the labours of the field, acco&longs;ts her with words
of kindne&longs;s, ki&longs;&longs;es all his little prattlers round, and
takes the younge&longs;t on his knee to &longs;hare his homely
&longs;upper, that humble cottager is happier far than
you.

The&longs;e reflections had pa&longs;&longs;ed with &longs;uch rapidity
through my brain, that Mr. Selby was &longs;till in &longs;ight.—
I will follow thee, &longs;aid I, and &longs;ee what has
had power to charm thee from &longs;o &longs;weet, &longs;o gentle a
companion.

[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]

Having got my ring on, I quickened my pace,
and &longs;oon overtook him.

He proceeded to May Fair; when knocking at
the door of a large hou&longs;e, a &longs;ervant in a &longs;howey livery
opened it; when, taking the advantage of my
invi&longs;ibility, I entered, and followed him through
a magnificent &longs;uite of rooms into a drawing room.