ing read the Count's letter, was a stranger to all the circumstances relative to it. He made no difficulty of obeying the order, and set off for his father's seat directly.
One day, when every heart beat high with expectation, a travelling carriage was seen driving through the park. "My son, my son!" (cried the Countess, starting up.) The Marquis ran out to meet him. In a moment a tall elegant youth, about sixteen, entered the room, with looks of eager expectation. The Countess flew towards him, threw her arms round him; attempted to speak, but overpowered by tender emotions, till then a stranger to her breast, she fainted in his arms. The young gentleman, alarmed, and equally agitated, assisted, in silence, to convey her to a seat; and whilst the Marchioness was busy in her endeavours to restore her sister, he kissed her hand eagerly, and cried to the Marquis, "Tell me, Sir, who is this dear lady?" "It is ———(said the other, with a little pause) she is your mother, Sir." "Mother! (repeated he, dropping on his knees) Great God! have I a mother? my own mother!" "Yes, (replied the Marquis) she is indeed your parent, for very many years believed to be dead."
Young Frederic was now in a state very little better than the Countess: surprise, joy, the soft emotions that at once assailed him, rendered him speechless and immoveable.
It was some time before they were both sufficiently recovered to be sensible of their felicity. The Countess embraced him with tears of expressive tenderness; he, on his kness, kissing her hands with ardour. "My mother! my dear mother!" was all he could utter for a long time. The Marchioness at length separated them. "My dear Frederic, (said she) you have other duties to pay, besides your present delightful one—I claim you as my nephew; this gentleman is my husband, consequently your uncle." He flew and embraced both. "Gracious heaven! (cried he) what happiness. A few months ago I
