Now, my dear Lady Beauchamp, said I, listing her hand to my lips, permit me to give you joy.  All doubts and misgivings so triumphantly got over, so solid a foundation laid for family harmony—­What was the moment of your nuptials to this?  Sir Harry, I congratulate you:  you may, and I believe you have been, as happy as most men; but now, you will be still happier.

Indeed, Sir Harry, said she, you provoked me in the morning:  I should not else—­

Sir Harry owned himself to blame; and thus the lady’s pride was set down softly.

She desired Sir Harry to write, before the day concluded, the invitation of return, to Mr. Beauchamp; and to do her all the credit in it that she might claim from the last part of the conversation; but not to mention any thing of the first.

She afterwards abated a little of this right spirit, by saying, I think, Sir Harry, you need not mention any thing of the arrears, as I may call them—­But only the future 600L. a year.  One would surprise him a little, you know, and be twice thanked—­

Surprises of such a nature as this, my dear Dr. Bartlett; pecuniary surprises!—­I don’t love them—­They are double taxes upon the gratitude of a worthy heart.  Is it not enough for a generous mind to labour under a sense of obligation?—­Pride, vain-glory, must be the motive of such narrow-minded benefactors:  a truly beneficent spirit cannot take delight in beholding the quivering lip indicating the palpitating heart; in seeing the downcast countenance, the up-lifted hands, and working muscles, of a fellow-creature, who, but for unfortunate accidents, would perhaps himself have had the will, with the power, of shewing a more graceful benevolence!

I was so much afraid of hearing farther abatements of Lady Beauchamp’s goodness; so willing to depart with favourable impressions of her for her own sake; and at the same time so desirous to reach the Hall that night; that I got myself excused, though with difficulty, staying to dine; and accepting of a dish of chocolate, I parted with Sir Harry and my lady, both in equal good humour with themselves and me.

Could you have thought, my dear friend, that I should have succeeded so very happily, as I have done, in this affair, and at one meeting?

I think that the father and stepmother should have the full merit with our Beauchamp of a turn so unexpected.  Let him not therefore ever see this letter, that he may take his impression of the favour done him, from that which Sir Harry will write to him.

My cousin Grandison, whom I hoped to find here, left the Hall on Tuesday last, though he knew of my intention to be down.  I am sorry for it.  Poor Everard!  He has been a great while pretty good.  I am afraid he will get among his old acquaintance; and then we shall not hear of him for some months perhaps.  If you see him in town, try to engage him, till I return.  I should be glad of his company to Paris, if his going with me, will keep him out of harm’s way, as it is called.