I told her, I believed he was; and she said, We must make the best of it, Mrs. Lovick, and Mrs. Smith.  I shall otherwise most grievously shock my poor cousin:  for he loved me dearly once.—­Pray give me a few of the doctor’s last drops in water, to keep up my spirits for this one interview; and that is all, I believe, that can concern me now.

The Colonel, (who heard all this,) sent in his name; and I, pretending to go down to him, introduced the afflicted gentleman; she having first ordered the screen to be put as close to the window as possible, that he might not see what was behind it; while he, having heard what she had said about it, was determined to take no notice of it.

He folded the angel in his arms as she sat, dropping down on one knee; for, supporting herself upon the two elbows of the chair, she attempted to rise, but could not.  Excuse, my dear Cousin, said she, excuse me, that I cannot stand up—­I did not expect this favour now.  But I am glad of this opportunity to thank you for all your generous goodness to me.

I never, my best-beloved and dearest Cousin, said he, (with eyes running over,) shall forgive myself, that I did not attend you sooner.  Little did I think you were so ill; nor do any of your friends believe it.  If they did—­

If they did, repeated she, interrupting him, I should have had more compassion from them.  I am sure I should—­But pray, Sir, how did you leave them?  Are you reconciled to them?  If you are not, I beg, if you love your poor Clarissa, that you will; for every widened difference augments but my fault; since that is the foundation of all.

I had been expecting to hear from them in your favour, my dear Cousin, said he, for some hours, when this gentleman’s letter arrived, which hastened me up; but I have the account of your grandfather’s estate to make up with you, and have bills and drafts upon their banker for the sums due to you; which they desire you may receive, lest you should have occasion for money.  And this is such an earnest of an approaching reconciliation, that I dare to answer for all the rest being according to your wishes, if——­

Ah!  Sir, interrupted she, with frequent breaks and pauses—­I wish—­I wish this does not rather show that, were I to live, they would have nothing more to say to me.  I never had any pride in being independent of them; all my actions, when I might have made myself more independent, show this —­But what avail these reflections now?—­I only beg, Sir, that you, and this gentleman—­to whom I am exceedingly obliged—­will adjust those matters—­according to the will I have written.  Mr. Belford will excuse me; but it was in truth more necessity than choice that made me think of giving him the trouble he so kindly accepts.  Had I the happiness to see you, my Cousin, sooner—­or to know that you still honoured me with your regard—­I should not have had the assurance to ask this favour of him.—­