offer, that will enable her to do so, duty to them should make her accept it; gratitude to the generous man, should render her a good and affectionate wife. If a woman has had a bad husband, who has used her ill, and unworthy of her merit, I conceive she owes no respect to his memory, but may, without any imputation whatever, reward the affection of a deserving object, and find her own happiness in so doing.' The Countess Marcellini, said, 'My sentiments exactly correspond with my amiable friend's.' 'And mine, also,' cried the Marchioness, 'only I must be permitted to add, that if a woman so situated declines the offer, from over-delicacy, which is no delicacy at all, and by so doing renders a worthy man wretched, and refines away her own happiness at the same time, I think her quite inexcusable, and deserving reproach from her friends.' 'Thank you, my love,' said the Marquis; 'and now, sister, your opinion, if you please.' 'Mine,' answered she, in some confusion, 'you are no stranger to, otherwise whence this appeal? but to convince you I am neither obstinate nor perverse, but open to conviction and the advice of my best friends, I will frankly subscribe to the opinion and judgement of these ladies.' 'Now,' said the Marquis, 'you have redeemed my love and esteem. I will not apply to our sweet Matilda here; she is unqualified, at present to judge; and I fear her trial is not far off from an accusation something similar, though not on account of a second marriage; however I shall now rejoice my client with intelligence, that he has gained his cause.' He bowed with a smiling air, and left the room.
'My dear sister,' said the Marchioness, 'accept my congratulations: Lord Delby is a most worthy nobleman, and offers to reside in whatever country you please; wherever you are will be his home.'
The ladies all congratulated the Countess.
'I own,' said she, 'I have a very preferable regard for Lord Delby, and am, in all probability, indebted to him for my life and present happiness: it shall henceforth be my study to return those obligations.'
This matter being settled, the ladies retired to dress; and, after a little hesitation in her voice, Matilda informed her mother of the preceding conversation, between herself and the Count. 'I have referred him to you, madam, and I beg previously to observe, I will implicitly, and without a murmur, abide by your decision. I never will be separated from you; and if my union with the Count must be attended with so great a sacrifice, no consideration whatever shall induce me to marry him. I have already shewn I can resign him, when I think it my duty to do so.' 'You are an extraordinary good girl,' answered the Countess 'but I will make no promises; when I have heard the Count, I shall be the better able to determine what I ought to do.'
This day a cheerfulness pervaded through the whole party. Young Frederic, extremely attached to Lord Delby, was delighted with the prospect of a nearer connexion. He was charmed with the Count De Bouville; but his young heart felt a little degree of envy when he considered him as the favoured lover of Matilda, whom he admired so exceedingly, that his extreme youth only prevented him from being a formidable rival.
In the evening, when they took their usual walk, the Count requested the honour of a quarter of an hour's conversation with the Countess Berniti, and they retired to an alcove.
Matilda, who was leaning on the Lady Marcellini's arm, trembled so exceedingly, that she pressed her hand, and said, 'Fear nothing, my good girl, and hope every thing.' This a little re-assured her, and they pursued their walk.
The Marquis suddenly joined them, and observing her companion engaged in chat, drew her gently aside, 'There is a letter for you, under my cover, and I suspect, from Weimar.' They walked aside, and Matilda, hastily opening it, found it was really from him. He had entered among the Carthusians, at Paris. He pathetically laments all his past crimes, and acknowledges the justice and mercy of God: calls upon her to forgive and pray for him; cautions her against the allurements of the world, and takes an everlasting leave of her; meaning, from the hour he receives one line from her, to inform him, that she has recovered a mother, and is happy in her present prospects, to shut up his correspondence and connexion with the world for ever.
This letter affected Matilda greatly; she remembered the care he had taken of her youth, though she shuddered when she considered him as the murderer of her father. 'Unhappy man,' cried she, 'may God afford him penitence and peace in this life, and endless happiness in the world to come!' She promised the Marquis to write an answer the following morning, and he undertook to enclose it.
She joined her friends; but the letter had given so melancholy a turn to her thoughts, that every one took notice of her dejection; and judging it to arise from another cause, every one was anxious to dispel it, and raise her spirits.
At supper they all met. Matilda glanced her eyes once towards the Count, and observed joy seemed to animate his whole frame; from thence she derived hope, that he was not very displeasing to her mother.
When they retired for the night, the Countess was silent; Matilda of course asked no questions.
The next morning the Countess held a long conversation with her two Neapolitan friends; at the conclusion of which, the Count and her daughter was sent for. They attended, both visibly agitated. After they were seated, the Countess addressed herself to her child: 'My dear Matilda, the Count has done you the honour to express a warm attachment to you, and has requested me to authorize his addresses, without which permission you have refused to listen to him. I expect you answer me with sincerity; will my consent, my sanction to his addresses meet your wishes? or, can you renounce him, and follow me to Naples, if I desire it?' 'Certainly I will, madam, there, or any where you command; at the same time, I should make a very poor return for the obligations I owe the Count De Bouville, if I hesitated to own, that had his addresses been favoured with the approbation of my mother, I could have preferred him to all men living; but no preference whatever shall militate against the superior obligations I am under to a parent.' 'Come to my arms, my dear children,' cried the Countess, extending them, 'I know not which is most dear to me.'
They threw themselves at her feet: she blessed them with tears of joy and joined their hands. Both were speechless, but language was not necessary to prove their mutual transports. She raised them, and presented them to her friends, 'Love my children,' said she, 'I think they deserve it.'
When a little recovered from their joy, and seated by her, 'Now listen to me,' said the Countess; 'I will not repeat the conversation I had with the Count last evening, 'tis sufficient to say his offers were beyond my hopes or expectations: he frankly of himself requested my daughter and self should never be separated, for he would settle in Naples. That intention of his did away the only objection I could make. I consented to his wishes, but reserved to myself the pleasure of telling Matilda so. Last night, when I came to reflect on the sacrifice the Count was about to make, of his country, his friends, the injury his fortune must sustain, and the uncommon affection he manifested for my daughter, in paying me so great a compliment, I felt myself little in my own eyes for my acceptance of his generous offer. Dissatisfied and uneasy I said nothing to you, my love, of our conversation. This morning I consulted my friends; they were equally struck with myself at the Count's attention to my happiness; their opinion coincided with my own -that it became my character not to accept such a resignation.' 'My dear mother!' exclaimed Matilda. 'Patience, my love; those generous friends, I presume to flatter myself, decided against their own inclinations. In one word, they approved that I should renounce Naples; that your country,' -turning to the Count -'should be my country; and that the satisfaction of entertaining the friends of my youth, who offer to pay me a triennial visit, should be the only favour I ought to ask, or you consistently can grant. Yes, my dear children,' added she, 'I will accompany you to France, and end my days under your roof.'
Never was delight equal to what the Count felt at this unexpected turn in his favour; for it could not be supposed he could renounce his country and friends without a pang; on the contrary, only his superior love for Matilda, and respect for the feelings of her mother, could have induced him to offer so great a sacrifice. He thanked her, in transports of joy. He embraced the Count and Countess. 'Complete your goodness,' cried he, 'and add to my obligations, by making this your first visit, -go with us to France, and let there be no drawback on my happiness.'
The Countess and Matilda, urging the same request, they conscented to spend three months with them.
'Now, young folks,' said the Countess, smiling, 'you may take a walk and congratulate