again?' 'But where is the necessity for a separation?' said the Countess Marcellini, 'cannot you alternately visit each other every year?' 'No,' replied she; 'when she marries there will be many things to prevent it. Indeed,' added she, in tears, 'good and amiable as the Count is, I wish Matilda had never known him.' 'Possibly, madam,' answered the Marchioness, very gravely, she might then never have seen the convent, never have been carried off, and you still ignorant you had such a daughter living, whose generous self denial deserves some praise as the Count's disinterested and uncommon passion is entitled to some consideration: but I beg your ladyship's pardon; I have only done my duty in making this communication; the Lady, Matilda, will doubtless conform herself to your wishes.'
The Countess struck with her words and manner of speaking them, caught her hand, and kissing it, 'Pardon me, dearest madam,' said she, 'if I have appeared petulant and ungrateful, my heart is not so, but consider how natural it is for a mother, just in possession of a treasure so long and painfully regretted as entirely lost, to be jealous of a superior attachment, and unhappy at the idea of parting from an object so entwined about her heart.' 'It is natural, my dear madam,' answered the Marchioness, 'and if I did not hope some method might be found out to obviate the objection, I believe the Count would have little chance of succeeding with -' 'Your and my Matilda,' said the Countess, eagerly. 'That "Lady Matilda" struck me to the heart.' 'She is indeed mine,' replied the Marchioness, 'my adopted child; and had the want of fortune only prevented her union with the Count, we offered largely to remove it; but her objections proceeded from an elevation of soul, a greatness of mind, that would not disgrace the man she married, whilst the Count thought she would dignify any rank, and honour any man to whom she gave her hand.' 'Amiable, good young people!' said the Lady Marcellini. 'O ! my dear Countess they ought not be separated.' 'Nor shall they,' answered she, 'if I find their affection is still mutual: I will have a private conversation with Matilda tomorrow, and you, madam, shall immediately know the result.' They now walked towards the house, and were soon joined by the rest of their party.
Notwithstanding every one wished to appear pleasing, the evening was not a gay one. The Countess Berniti seemed collected within herself Matilda was confused and apprehensive; the Count De Bouville distracted with doubts, drew unfavourable omens from the looks of the mother and daughter, and therefore was very silent. They separated at an early hour, and sought in sleep a forgetfulness of care.
The following morning, the Countess and Matilda being alone in their dressing-room the former said, 'How comes it, my dear child, that, in relating your story to me, you never mentioned the particular obligations you owed to the Count De Bouville, for his generous offers?' 'Because, madam,' answered Matilda, blushing, 'I thought it would appear to give myself a consequence I did not wish to arrogate, for merely doing my duty in declining them. Another reason was, I had been misled into a belief, that the Count had married an English lady, a sister of Lord Delby's; and therefore supposing he never could be any thing to me, I judged it of no consequence, for the present, at least, to say any thing about him.' 'You have answered with candour and sincerity,' said the Countess 'and I expect the same to the following question: Do you love the Count De Bouville?' 'If, madam,' replied she, hesitating a little, 'to prefer him to any other man I ever saw; if to confess that I think him deserving of the highest esteem from every one he honours with his acquaintance; if this is to be called love, I must answer in the affirmative.' 'You are not quite so ready and explicit in this answer,' said the Countess, with a smile, 'nevertheless I believe your sentiments in his favour are pretty decisive; and if my conjectures are right what part am I to act, and how be expected to give a sanction to your union, which, in all probability will part us for ever.' 'Never, my dear mother,' answered she, in a firm tone, 'never; no power on earth shall part us again: how great soever my affection for the Count may be, be assured my duty, my love for you will greatly over-balance it; and if the alternative must be to part with one, behold me ready to give him up, without the least degree of hesitation.' 'Now, my dear Matilda,' said the Countess, extremely moved by the firmness of her voice, and the expression in her eyes, now you have found the way to subdue me at once: you shall make no such sacrifices for me, my child; and I will think of some method to reconcile your duty and inclination to my wishes.' Matilda kissed her mother's hand with the warmest affection, and some of their friends coming into the room precluded further conversation. She went in search of the Marchioness. She was told that lady was in the garden, and thither she repaired, when, coming to an alcove, she saw her seated in earnest conversation with the Count De Bouville. She would have turned back, but the Count ran, caught her hand, and led her to the Marchioness. 'I am rejoiced to see you,' said she, 'my dear child; do, pray, take this troublesome young man off my hands, for I declare he has been making down right love to me.' 'Who, I?' said the Count. 'Yes,' answered she, 'you know you have -as a proxy; and, as I am quite tired of being only a substitute, I leave Matilda to supply my place for the present.' She got up and walked away, Matilda being too much confused to have the resolution to prevent her.
The Count seized this moment to know his doom. He besought her attention for a few moments, briefly ran over the affair between Mrs Courtney and him, as a mere Bagatelle, without wounding the lady's consequence. His distress and pursuit of her through France, Switzerland, Germany, from thence to Tunis and back again. He described the fervency of his love and the tortures of suspence; called upon her in the tenderest manner, to remember the time when she had said, 'If her rank and fortune equalled his, she would, with pleasure, give him her hand.' 'And now, madam,' added he 'that hour so much wished for by you, though of little consequence
in my estimation, when thrown into the scale with unequaled merit and dignity of mind; that hour is arrived, deign, my beloved Matilda, to tell me, if I still can boast a share in your esteem; tell me, if I may presume to hope, that, however changed your situation, your heart, faithful to your other friends, has not withdrawn itself from him who lives only for you, and depends on you for happiness or misery in extreme?'
Matilda endeavoured to assume a composure she did not feel, for after the conversation with her mother she thought she was not at liberty to act for herself. Being silent a few moments she replied, 'Believe me, Sir, my heart is still unchanged, still the same grateful and affectionate sentiments predominate in my mind: the Count De Bouville possesses my esteem, if possible, more than ever, for my obligations to him are increased; but -I have a mother; no longer mistress of my own destiny, she must determine for me. I will not scruple to confess, that it will be to me the happiest moment of my life, if my duty and affection to her coincide with your wishes.'
The Count, transported with joy, kissed her hand in expressive silence, whilst Matilda rose from her seat and hurried to the house, rejoiced that this interview was over. She returned to her mother's apartment. The ladies were with her. The Marchioness smiled a little maliciously at her, but observing she looked rather agitated, she asked, 'What is become of the gentlemen this morning? have you seen the Marquis and his friends, my love?' 'No, madam,' replied she, 'I suppose they are rambling in the grounds.'
Just then the Marquis entered. 'Ah! ladies,' said he, 'I am happy to see you together: I have undertaken to bring a cause before your tribunal to-day, against one of your coterie, and I expect an impartial judgement. What say you, ladies, dare you promise to be just and sincere?' 'Your impertinent question is so affronting to us,' replied the Countess, 'that I think we ought to decline hearing your cause.' 'Conscience, conscience, my dear sister,' cried he, smiling, 'nevertheless, I will open my brief. A gentleman of rank, fortune, and unquestionable merit' -here Matilda trembled -'has, for some time, entertained the warmest affection and respect for an amiable woman. When first he knew and admired her she was in a situation that precluded hope, he was therefore condemned to silence; that situation is changed; he has no obstacles to combat but the lady's over-strained delicacy: she owns a preferable esteem, but -she cannot approve of a second marriage.' Here all eyes were glanced at the Countess, who was confused. Matilda began to respire. 'Tell me, ladies,' resumed the Marquis, ingenuously, 'should so futile an objection preclude her from making a worthy man happy, gratifying her own partiality in his favour, and giving a dear and valuable additional relation to her friends? You see I put the case simply and plainly. Will you, madam' -addressing the Countess Berniti - have the goodness to speak first?' 'I am not an advocate, Sir,' she answered 'for second marriages; on the contrary, I think there are but very few cases that can justify them. If a woman is left with a family she is anxious to provide for, and has an eligible