Not mean to such an angel!—­Nor can I rise but to be forgiven!

The Captain then re-urged once more the day—­he was amazed, he said, if she ever valued me—­

O Captain Tomlinson, interrupted she, how much are you the friend of this man!—­If I had never valued him, he never would have had it in his power to insult me; nor could I, if I had never regarded him, have taken to heart as I do, the insult (execrable as it was) so undeservedly, so ungratefully given—­but let him retire—­for a moment let him retire.

I was more than half afraid to trust the Captain by himself with her.  He gave me a sign that I might depend upon him.  And then I took out of my pocket his letter to me, and Lady Betty’s and Miss Montague’s, and Lord M.’s letters (which last she had not then seen); and giving them to him, procure for me, in the first place, Mr. Tomlinson, a re-perusal of these three letters; and of this from Lord M. And I beseech you, my dearest life, give them due consideration:  and let me on my return find the happy effects of that consideration.

I then withdrew; with slow feet, however, and a misgiving heart.

The Captain insisted upon this re-perusal previously to what she had to say to him, as he tells me.  She complied, but with some difficulty; as if she were afraid of being softened in my favour.

She lamented her unhappy situation; destitute of friends, and not knowing whither to go, or what to do.  She asked questions, sifting-questions, about her uncle, about her family, and after what he knew of Mr. Hickman’s fruitless application in her favour.

He was well prepared in this particular; for I had shown him the letters and extracts of letter of Miss Howe, which I had so happily come at.* Might she be assured, she asked him, that her brother, with Singleton and Solmes, were actually in quest of her?

* Vol.  IV.  Letter XLIV.

He averred that they were.

She asked, if he thought I had hopes of prevailing on her to go back to town?

He was sure I had not.

Was he really of opinion that Lady Betty would pay her a visit?

He had no doubt of it.

But, Sir; but, Captain Tomlinson—­[impatiently turning from him, and again to him] I know not what to do—­but were I your daughter, Sir—­were you my own father—­Alas!  Sir, I have neither father nor mother!

He turned from her and wiped his eyes.

O Sir! you have humanity! [She wept too.] There are some men in the world, thank Heaven, that can be moved.  O Sir, I have met with hard-hearted men—­in my own family too—­or I could not have been so unhappy as I am—­but I make every body unhappy!

His eyes no doubt ran over.—­

Dearest Madam!  Heavenly Lady!—­Who can—­who can—­hesitated and blubbered the dog, as he owned.  And indeed I heard some part of what passed, though they both talked lower than I wished; for, from the nature of their conversation, there was no room for altitudes.