at the first glance, in favour of this amiable woman—she appeared to be near fifty, her person agreeable, her countenance animated, her address engaging, and her manners polished. Mutually pleased with each other, the hours passed rapidly; and, till reminded by a significant look from my little friend, I was unconscious, that I had made my visit of an unreasonable length.

Mrs Harley spoke much of her son, he was the darling and the pride of her heart; she lamented the distance that separated them, and wished, that her health, and his tenderness, would allow of her residence with him in London. When conversing on this favourite topic, a glow enlivened her countenance, and her eyes sparkled with a humid brightness. I was affected by her maternal love—tender remembrances, and painful comparisons, crouded into my mind—a tear fell, that would not be twinkled away—she observed it, and seemed to feel its meaning; she held out her hand to me, I took it and pressed it to my lips. At parting, she entreated me speedily to renew my visit, to come often without ceremony—I should cheer her solitude—my sympathy, for she perceived I had a feeling heart, would help to console her in the absence of her Augustus.

CHAPTER XVII

On our way home, Ann was in high spirits, congratulating herself upon her sagacity.

'Mrs Harley,' (said she, archly leering in my face) 'will console you for the departure of Mr Francis.'

I smiled without replying. At dinner our visit of the morning was canvassed (Ann had wished me to conceal it, but this I positively refused). Mr Morton spoke of Mrs Harley and her son with great respect, Mrs Morton with a sarcastic sneer, accompanied with a reprimand to her daughter, for the improper liberty she had taken.

I quitted the table, immediately after the desert, to stifle my disgust, and, taking a book, wandered into the pleasure grounds, but incapable of fixing my attention, I presently shut my book, and, sauntering slowly on, indulged in a reverie. My melancholy reflections again returned—How could I remain in a house, where I was every day marked out for insult by its mistress—and where was I to dispose of myself? My fortune was insufficient to allow of my boarding in a respectable family. Mrs Harley came across my mind—Amiable woman!—Would she, indeed, accept of my society, and allow me to soften her solitude!—But her income was little less limited than my own—it must not be thought of. I reflected on the inequalities of society, the source of every misery 

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