by the means she had contrived;—­she told him that young lady had seen him for several days, and not doubling but it was for her sake he came, had resolved to run any risque rather than he should depart without obtaining so small a consolation as the sight of her was capable of affording.  Horatio, by the most passionate expressions, testified how dearly he prized what she had seemed to think of so little value, when the expected charmer of his soul drew near the grate.—­All that can be conceived of tender and endearing past between them; but when he related to her the occasion of his coming, and that change of life he now was entering upon, she listened to him with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety:—­she rejoiced with him on the great prospects he had in view; but the terror of the dangers he was plunging in was all her own.  She was far, however, from discouraging him in his designs, and concealed not her admiration of the greatness of his spirit, and that love of glory which seemed to render him capable of undertaking any thing.

But when she heard in what manner her father had treated him, she was all astonishment:  as she knew his temper perfectly well, she was certain he would not have acted in the manner he did without being influenced to it by a very strong liking for Horatio; for tho’ gratitude for the good office he had received at his hands might have engaged him to make some requital, yet there were several expressions which Horatio, who remembered all he said, with the utmost exactness repeated to her, that convinced her he would not have made use of, if he had not meant the person better than he at present would have him think he did; and that there was in reality nothing restrained him from making them as happy as their mutual affection could desire, but the pride of blood and the talk of the world, which the disparity of their present circumstances would occasion.  As she doubted not but the courage and virtue of Horatio would remove that impediment, by acquiring a promotion sufficient to countenance his pretensions, she had now no other disquiet than what arose from her fears for his safety, which she over and over repeated, conjuring him, in the most tender terms, not to hazard himself beyond what the duties of his post obliged him to:—­this, said she, shall be the test of my affection to you; for whenever I hear you run yourself into unnecessary dangers, I will conclude from that moment you have ceased to remember, or pay any regard to my injunctions or repose.

Horatio kissed her hand thro’ the grate, and told her, he would always set too great a value on a life she was so good to with the continuance of, not to take all the care of it that honour would admit; but she would not give him leave to add any asseverations to this promise, which, said she, you will every day be tempted to break;—­the enterprizing disposition of the prince you are going to serve, added to your own sense of glory, will make it very difficult for