When it was known, for certain, that Mr. Grandison had actually left
Italy, the family at Bologna began to wish that they had permitted the
interview so much desired by the poor lady: and when they afterwards
understood that he was sent for to England, to take possession of his
paternal estate, that farther distance, (the notion likewise of the seas
between them appearing formidable,) added to their regrets.
The poor lady was kept in travelling motion to quiet her mind: for still
an interview with Mr. Grandison having never been granted, it was her
first wish.
They carried her to Urbino, to Rome, to Naples; then back to Florence,
then to Milan, to Turin.
Whether they made her hope that it was to meet with Mr. Grandison, I know
not; but it is certain, she herself expected to see him at the end of
every journey; and, while she was moving, was easier, and more composed;
perhaps in that hope.
The marchioness was sometimes of the party. The air and exercise were
thought proper for her health, as well as for that of her daughter. Her
cousin Laurana was always with her in these excursions, and sometimes
Lady Sforza; and their escort was, generally, Signors Sebastiano and
Juliano.
But, within these four months past, these journeyings have been
discontinued. The young lady accuses them of deluding her with vain
hopes. She is impatient, and has made two attempts to escape from them.
She is, for this reason, closely confined and watched.
They put her once into a nunnery, at the motion of Lady Sforza, as for a
trial only. She was not uneasy in it: but this being done unknown to the
general, when he was apprised of it, he, for reasons I cannot comprehend,
was displeased, and had her taken out directly.
Her head runs more than ever upon seeing her tutor, her friend, her
chevalier, once more. They have certainly been to blame, if they have
let her travel with such hopes; because they have thereby kept up her
ardour for an interview. Could she but once more see him, she says, and
let him know the cruelty she has been treated with, she should be
satisfied. He would pity her, she is sure, though nobody else will.
The bishop has written to beg, that Sir Charles would pay them one more
visit at Bologna.
I will refer to my patron himself the communicating to you, ladies, his
resolution on this subject. I had but a moment's sight of the letters
which so greatly affected him.
It is but within these few days past that this new request has been made
to him, in a direct manner. The question was before put, If such a
request should be made, would he comply? And once Camilla wrote, as
having heard Sir Charles's presence wished for.
Mean time the poor lady is hastening, they are afraid, into a consumptive
malady. The Count of Belvedere, however, still adores her. The disorder
in her mind being imputed chiefly to religious melancholy, and some of
her particular flights not being generally known, he, who is a pious man
himself, pities her; and declares, that he would run all risks of her
recovery, would the family give her to him: and yet he knows, that she
would choose to be the wife of the Chevalier Grandison, rather than that
of any other man, were the article of religion to be got over; and
generously applauds her for preferring her faith to her love.
Signor Jeronymo is in a very bad way. Sir Charles often writes to him,
and with an affection worthy of the merits of that dear friend. He was
to undergo another severe operation on the next day after the letters
came from Bologna; the success of which was very doubtful.
How nobly does Sir Charles appear to support himself under such heavy
distresses! For those of his friends were ever his. But his heart
bleeds in secret for them. A feeling heart is a blessing that no one,
who has it, would be without; and it is a moral security of innocence;
since the heart that is able to partake of the distress of another,
cannot wilfully give it.
I think, my good Miss Byron, that I have now, as far as I am at present
able, obeyed all your commands that concern the unhappy Clementina, and
her family. I will defer, if you please, those which relate to Olivia
and Mrs. Beaumont, ladies of very different characters from each other,
having several letters to write.
Permit me, my good ladies, and my lord, after contributing so much to
afflict your worthy hearts, to refer you, for relief under all the
distresses of life, whether they affect ourselves or others, to those
motives that can alone give true support to a rational mind. This mortal
scene, however perplexing, is a very short one; and the hour is hastening
when all the intricacies of human affairs shall be cleared up; and all
the sorrows that have had their foundation in virtue be changed into the
highest joy: when all worthy minds shall be united in the same interests,
the same happiness.
Allow me to be, my good Miss Byron, and you, my Lord and Lady L----, and
Miss Grandison,
Your most faithful and obedient servant,
AMBROSE BARTLETT.
Excellent Dr. Bartlett!--How worthy of himself is this advice! But think
you not, my Lucy, that the doctor has in it a particular view to your
poor Harriet? A generous one, meaning consolation and instruction to
her? I will endeavour to profit by it. Let me have your prayers, my
dear friends, that I may be enabled to succeed in my humble endeavours.
It will be no wonder to us now, that Sir Charles was not solicitous to
make known a situation so embarrassing to himself, and so much involved
in clouds and uncertainty: but whatever may be the event of this affair,
you, Lucy, and all my friends, will hardly ever know me by any other name
than that of