fhe, folding me in her arms, do not thus give way to your apprehenfions ;-do not think it unkind, my love, if I refuse your request at prefent: the letter has, I confefs, given me fome uneafinefs; but perhaps, as you fay, without caufe: I will read it again, my dear Lucinda, with more attention; you fhall then know whether your conjecture was right.-In vain I preffed her to indulge me then; fhe begged I would not importune her; affuring me I should know all in good time.-There was, or I fancied there was, more meaning in the tone of her voice, the manner of saying I should know all, than fhe at that moment meant it fhould convey perhaps it was but fancy; yet why, any dear Mifs Selwyn, this appearance of myftery? what can I think! Surely my fears are not groundless;-fhe endeavoured to affume an air of more compofure, and foon after faid fhe was going to call on Mr. Peters. I offered to accompany her; but this fhe declined on fome very trifling pretence, and went alone. She left me in a condition I cannot defcribe, 'twas dreadful! Of all fituations, fufpence is certainly the most painful, particularly when agitated by fears. Your brother happened to come in —I was in tears ;-he started on obferving them, and very tenderly enquired the caufe. I gave fome frivolous reafon, not thinking myself at liberty to declare the truth; he faid a thoufand obliging things in order to confole me; I did all in my power to convince him he had fucceeded, in hopes he would the fooner leave me; for I confefs, tho' the brother of my be

loved friend, I would gladly have difpenfed with his company at that time-he ftaid near an hour, I believe, and then took his leave. With the most painful anxiety I fat waiting my mo ther's return, hoping I fhould then be informed what had occafioned her trouble: I was however difappointed. She appeared much more com. pofed indeed; but on my renewing my request, the affured me her fears had, as I guess'd, been owing to the wrong construction fhe had too haftily put upon the contents of the letter. She had shown it to Mr. Peters, who had convinced her of her error-This was all I could get from her on the fubject, tho' I am pofitively certain the has not yet told me all.This is my present fituation, my dear Madam, and think you will allow 'tis by no means a pleasant one; add to this, I am miferable at not having the happiness of hearing from you.-Cruelly diftant as you now are from me, I might have heard more than once, yet not one line: believe me, I do you too much juftice to entertain for a moment, a fufpicion of your affection being weakened. I know the amiable heart of my kind Mifs Selwyn too well for that; but 'tis that very circumstance which diftreffes me; there must be a cause, and I dread left it should be Lady Selwyn; fhe is perhaps worfe in health inftead of better, as I fo earnestly wifh; nay, who can affure me my friend has not fuffered by the fatigues of fo long a voyage?-For pity's fake, relieve my mind if poffible!-you know not, my dear Madam, how very much I stand in need of that fweet confolation.Tis ftrange

-but 'tis most true! I have not enjoyed one hour's peace of mind fince you left me :-as I faid in a former letter, I believe I have had more time for reflection, and lefs amufement; the confequence is, I have been led into a train of thoughts in regard of my fituation, which till deprived of your pleafing fociety, had never made any very deep impreffion on me.-In your loved company, I felt myself happy, I enjoyed the present moment: I looked no farther -but now I caft my eyes with anxiety for the future; and indeed 'tis gloomy; my profpects are all fad, all melancholy!-Pardon me, if you think I am to blame; or even chide me, fo you do but write.-Adieu, my ever dear, my only friend-believe me most affectionately,

Your's,

L. OSBURN.

LETTER X...

Mifs SELWYN to LUCINDA OSBURN.

THERE is nothing more certain, my

dear

Lucinda, than that this is a world in which we are not to expect happiness, without also a confiderable share of mifery. Alas! this truth has been verified to me.-At the moment I pleased myfelf with the hopes that my forrows would fpeedily be at an end, by the reftoration of my loved mother's heath, it has received a shock fo unexpected, so very dreadful, that I now utterly defpair of ever feeing that wifhed event.I have loft the best of fathers, Lucinda.

My mother was furprisingly better; we even began to talk of our return to England-when my father was seised with an apoplectic fit, and died instantly, in spite of every poffible affist

ance.

I need not attempt to describe our feelings; nor am I even now in a fituation to do it, were it poffible; these few lines must suffice at prefent. I have had the melancholy task of writing more fully to my brother; he will probably inform you of it. You will naturally fuppofe this dreadful fhock on a conftitution delicate as my mother's, muft preclude all hopes of her recovery; at least the condition it has thrown

her into, renders it extremely improbable.All thoughts of our return to England are now over; fhe is in no condition to undertake the voyage.

Your laft letter, which I received but two days before this melancholy event, has alfo given me much pain; yet, Lucinda, your distress is in a great meafure imaginary.-You fear a thousand things which may have no foundation; why thus anticipate evils that may never arrive?

I can write no more-my diftrefs is, alas! but too well founded.- Adieu; when I am able, you fhall hear from me again; till then, endeavour to hope the best.-In me you shall ever find a true friend; for I am very fincerely

Your's,

L. SELWY N.

I HAVE

LETTER XI.

ANSWER.

HAVE much to tell you, my dear Madam. -Alas! your poor Lucinda's fad forbodings are but too fatally verified.-Yet, great as they are, they no longer have a place in my memory-all cares for myself are at this moment forgot.--I can think of nothing-do nothing-but fhed unavailing tears of affliction over the melancholy