[O, Lucy!  How nobly is his whole conduct towards me justified!]

‘She has, madam,’ (proceeded the countess, in his words,) ’a prudence that I never knew equalled in a woman so young.  With a frankness of mind, to which hardly ever young lady before her had pretensions, she has such a command of her affections, that no man, I dare say, will ever have a share in them, till he has courted her favour by assiduities which shall convince her that he has no heart but for her.’

O my Lucy!  What an honour to me would these sentiments be, if I deserved them!  And can Sir Charles Grandison think I do?—­I hope so.  But if he does, how much am I indebted to his favourable, his generous opinion!  Who knows but I have reason to rejoice, rather than to regret, as I used to do, his frequent absences from Colnebrook?

The countess proceeded.

Then, sir, you will not take it amiss, if my son, by his assiduities, can prevail upon Miss Byron to think that he has merit, and that his heart is wholly devoted to her.

’Amiss, madam!—­No!—­In justice, in honour, I cannot.  May Miss Byron be, as she deserves to be, one of the happiest women on earth in her nuptials.  I have heard a great character of Lord D——.  He has a very large estate.  He may boast of his mother—­God forbid, that I, a man divided in myself, not knowing what I can do, hardly sometimes what I ought to do, should seek to involve in my own uncertainties the friend I revere; the woman I so greatly admire:  her beauty so attracting; so proper therefore for her to engage a generous protector in the married state.’

Generous man! thought I. O how my tears ran down my cheeks, as I hid my face behind the countess’s chair!

But will you allow me, sir, proceeded the countess, to ask you, were you freed from all your uncertainties—­

‘Permit me, madam,’ interrupted he, ’to spare you the question you were going to put.  As I know not what will be the result of my journey abroad, I should think myself a very selfish man, and a very dishonourable one to two ladies of equal delicacy and worthiness, if I sought to involve, as I hinted before, in my own uncertainties, a young lady whose prudence and great qualities must make herself and any man happy, whom she shall favour with her hand.

‘To be still more explicit,’ proceeded he, With what face could I look up to a woman of honour and delicacy, such a one as the lady before whom I now stand, if I could own a wish, that, while my honour has laid me under obligation to one lady, if she shall be permitted to accept of me, I should presume to hope, that another, no less worthy, would hold her favour for me suspended, till she saw what would be the issue of the first obligation?  No, madam; I could sooner die, than offer such indignity to both!  I am fettered, added he; but Miss Byron is free:  and so is the lady abroad.  My attendance on her at this time, is indispensable; but I make not any conditions for myself—­My reward will be in the consciousness of having discharged the obligations that I think myself under, as a man of honour.’