to write to him whatever I pleased; in consequence of which I should take the liberty to assure him, that I would stay for him, and accept of no other offer till his affair was brought to a decision; and that if it was not determined in his favour, I doubted whether I should accept of any ever after.”  Tho’ I did not see Mr. Cranstoun for several months, our correspondence still continued; letters passing and repassing between us almost every post.

During this interval, my mamma went to a place called Turville Court, to the house of one Mrs. Pocock; where she was seized with a disorder, that it was thought would have proved fatal to her.  Through the whole course of her illness, when in her senses, she constantly cried out, “Let Cranstoun be sent for:”  On which, I at last sent for him.  He was then at Southampton; which, by the miscarriage of one of his letters, I was ignorant of.  But the very night he reached London, he set out for Turville Court, and arrived there about ten o’clock at night.  As soon as he came to Mrs. Pocock’s house, he was instantly taken up into my mother’s chamber, which greatly refreshed and revived her; for she immediately raised herself up in bed, took him about the neck, and kissed him in the most affectionate manner.  At the same time, she said, “My dear Cranstoun, I am glad you are come; I now shall grow well soon.”  Nor would she take any medicines, but from his hand, saying, “My poor nurse must not be jealous (meaning her daughter) since loving him I knew is pleasing her.”  The next day she got up, and sent for Mr. Cranstoun into her room; saying, “This I owe to you, my dear Cranstoun; your coming has given me new health and fresh spirits:  I was fearful lest I should die, and you not here to comfort that poor girl, how like death she looks!” My father came thither that day to see his spouse, and took Mr. Cranstoun, who met him in the hall, up in his arms, saying, “I am glad to see you here, how does my wife?” Upon Mr. Cranstoun’s telling him, “she was much better, and up,” he said, smiling, “I suppose they will both of them (meaning his wife and daughter) be much better, now you are come.”  My father seemed in great good humour all that day.  The next time he came (for he returned home at night) he appeared much out of humour at the great expence incurred by my mother on the foregoing occasion, and desired her to think of removing to her own house; since in that case, neither the physician’s fees nor the apothecary’s journeys could be so expensive.  But she was too weak to be removed immediately.  However, in a short time, she returned home, in company with myself and Mr. Cranstoun, who, with my father and mother’s approbation, resided with us above six months.  During which interval, my father was sometimes extremely kind, and sometimes very rude to Mr. Cranstoun, as well as very harsh, to his daughter.  I observed, that this rudeness and harshness generally appeared after he had been in company with some persons, and