only thank you for that openness of heart, which must set free the heart of my son—­Had you had the least lurking inclination to coquetry, and could have taken pride in conquests, he might have been an undone man.—­We will return to the company—­But spare him, my dear:  you must not talk much.  He will love you, if you do, too fervently for his own peace.  Try to be a little awkward—­I am afraid for him:  indeed I am.  O that you had never seen Sir Charles Grandison!

I could not answer one word.  She took my hand; and led me into the company.

Had I been silent, when my lord directed his discourse to me, or answered only No, or Yes, the Countess would have thought me very vain; and that I ascribed to myself the consequence she so generously gave me, with respect to my lord.  I therefore behaved and answered unaffectedly; but avoided such a promptness of speech, as would have looked like making pretensions to knowledge and opinion, though some of my lord’s questions were apparently designed to engage me into freedom of discourse.  The countess observed me narrowly.  She whispered to me, that she did; and made me a very high compliment on my behaviour.  How much, Lucy, do I love and reverence her!

My lord was spoken too slightly of, by Miss Grandison, in a former conversation.  He is really a fine gentleman.  Any woman who is not engaged in her affections, may think herself very happy with him.  His conversation was easy and polite, and he said nothing that was low or trifling.  Indeed, Lucy, I think Mr. Greville and Mr. Fenwick are as greatly inferior to Lord D——­, as Lord D——­ is to Sir Charles Grandison.

At parting, he requested of me, to be allowed to repeat his visits.

My lord, said the countess, before I could answer, you must not expect a mere stiff maiden answer from Miss Byron:  she is above all vulgar forms.  She and her cousins have too much politeness, and, I will venture to say, discernment, not to be glad of your acquaintance, as an acquaintance—­ But, for the rest, you must look to your heart.

I shall be afraid, said he, turning to the countess, to ask your ladyship for an explanation.  Miss Byron, I hope, sir, addressing himself to Mr. Reeves, will not refuse me her company, when I pay you my compliments.  Then turning to me, I hope, madam, I shall not be punished for admiring you.

My Lord D——­, replied I, will be entitled to every civility.  I had said more, had he not snatched my hand a little too eagerly, and kissed it.

And thus much for the visit of the Countess of D——­ and the earl.

***

Did I tell you in my former letter, that Emily is with me half her time?  She is a most engaging young creature.  Her manners are so pure!  Her heart is so sincere and open!—­O, Lucy! you would dearly love her.  I wish I may be asked to carry her down with me.  Yet she adores her guardian:  but her reverence for him will not allow of the innocent familiarity in thinking of him, that—­I don’t know what I would say.  But to love with an ardor, that would be dangerous to one’s peace, one must have more tenderness than reverence for the object:  Don’t you think so, Lucy?