had before but a confused notion; adding my surprise, that I had neither seen, nor heard, any thing from Mr Morton.

He informed me, in his turn, that, having received an express, informing him of his mother's alarming situation, he immediately quitted the seat of his friend, where he was on a visit, to hasten to her; that, for this purpose, riding late, he by some means bewildered himself through the darkness of the evening, by which mistake he encountered our chaise, and he hoped was, in some measure, notwithstanding the accidents which ensued, accessary to my preservation.

I quitted him to write to my friend, whom I, at length, judged it necessary to acquaint with his situation. On the receipt of my letter, she flew to us on the wings of maternal tenderness—folded her beloved Augustus, and myself, alternately to her affectionate bosom, calling us 'her children—her darling children!—I was her guardian angel—the preserver of her son!—and he only could repay my goodness!' I ventured to raise my eyes to him—they met his—mine were humid with tears of tenderness: a cloud passed over his brow—he entreated his mother to restrain her transports—he was yet too enfeebled to bear these emotions. She recollected herself in an instant; and, after again embracing him, leaning on my arm, walked out into the air, to relieve the tumultuous sensations that pressed upon her heart.

Once more she made me recite, minutely, the late events—strained me in her arms, repeatedly calling me—

'Her beloved daughter—the meritorious child of her affections—the preserver of her Augustus!'

Every word she uttered sunk deep into my soul, that greedily absorbed the delicious poison, prepared for me by the cruel hand of more than maternal fondness.

I mentioned to her my having written to Mr Morton, and my astonishment at his silence.

He had not yet returned, she informed me, to Morton Park; and intimated, that some malicious stories, respecting my sudden disappearance, had been circulated by Mrs Morton through the neighbourhood. She had herself been under extreme solicitude on my account. It was generally believed, from the turn Mrs Morton's malice had given to the affair, that I had eloped with Mr Montague:—the accident which had befallen him had been rumoured; but the circumstances, and the occasion of it, had been variously related. Confiding in my principles, she had waited with anxiety for the elucidation of these mysterious accounts; lamenting herself as 

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