on me! to make dear Mary happy ought to be sweetest of all, for, oh! how long have I known her heart broken and spiritless, faded and disconsolate, yet never cross or unkind, even for a moment. How often must our childish mirth have been as distressing to her jaded spirits, as the cruel taunts of mamma; and when she used to express such a desire that Glentworth would marry her, might not the same desire enter her own mind, hopeless as she then was, that Lord Allerton could be at liberty—and therefore, my marriage, if not affecting her tenderness, might be wounding to her pride, yet in her affection, her interest in me, she has to a certain point regained health and spirits. Oh! how sweetly I will dress her; how delicate, but how lovely she will look! thanks to you, dear Glentworth, who thinks for all, support all! Oh! how shall I worthily adore the merciful God who gave you to me (the youngest and least deserving of my family) to be the blessing and the protector of all!"
Several hours passed by unnoticed by Isabella, in meditating on her husband, or in playing with her child (which increased in health and beauty every day), before Mary emerged from her chamber—her eyelids were swollen, and the traces of tears were on her cheeks; it was evident that she had sustained a struggle, whether it were with the pride of female delicacy, dreading to show too plainly that she could forgive; that she was willing to be won; that although that priceless gem, "a virgin's first love," had been
