I will write no more, so minutely, on this affecting subject, my Grandison.

They are all of opinion that she will be easy, when she knows that you have actually left Bologna; and they strengthen their opinion by these words of hers, above-recited; ’Why he will be gone, I tell you; and this makes me so impatient.’—­At least, they are resolved to try the experiment.  And so, my dear Grandison, you must be permitted to leave us!

God be your director and comforter, as well as ours! prays

Your ever affectionate
Jeronymo.

***

Mr. Grandison, having no hopes of being allowed to see the unhappy lady, set out with a heavy heart for Florence.  He gave orders there, and at Leghorn, that the clerks and agents of his late friend Mr. Jervois should prepare every thing for his inspection against his return from Naples; and then he set out for that city, to attend the general.

He had other friends to whom he had endeared himself at Sienna, Ancona, and particularly at Rome, as he had also some at Naples; of whom he intended to take leave, before he set out for Paris:  and therefore went to attend the general with the greater pleasure.

Within the appointed time he arrived at Naples.

The general received me, said Mr. Grandison, with greater tokens of politeness than affection.  You are the happiest man in the world, chevalier, said he, after the first compliments, in escaping dangers by braving them.  I do assure you, that I had great difficulties to deny myself the favour of paying you a visit in my own way at Bologna.  I had indeed resolved to do it, till you proposed this visit to me here.

I should have been very sorry, replied I, to have seen a brother of Lady Clementina in any way that should not have made me consider him as her brother.  But, before I say another word, let me ask after her health.  How does the most excellent of women?

You have not heard, then?

I have not, my lord:  but it is not for want of solicitude:  I have sent three several messengers:  but can hear nothing to my satisfaction.

Nor can you hear any thing from me that will give you any.

I am grieved at my soul, that I cannot.  How, my lord, do the marquis and marchioness?

Don’t ask.  They are extremely unhappy.

I hear that my dear friend, Signor Jeronymo, has undergone—­

A dreadful operation, interrupted the general.—­He has.  Poor Jeronymo!  He could not write to you.  God preserve my brother!  But, chevalier, you did not save half a life, though we thank you for that, when you restored him to our arms.

I had no reason to boast, my lord, of the accident.  I never made a merit of it.  It was a mere accident, and cost me nothing.  The service was greatly over-rated.

Would to God, chevalier, it had been rendered by any other man in the world!

As it has proved, I am sure, my lord, I have reason to join in the wish.