I will give you, my dear friend, the particulars of this conversation.
She began with saying, that she did not, for her part, now think, that
her beloved daughter, whom once she believed hardly any private man could
deserve, was worthy of me, even were she to recover her reason.
I could not but guess the meaning of so high a compliment. What answer
could I return that would not, on one hand, be capable of being thought
cool; on the other, of being supposed interested; and as if I were
looking forward to a reward that some of the family still think too high?
But, while I knew my own motives, I could not be displeased with a lady
who was not at liberty to act, in this point, according to her own will.
I only said, (and it was with truth,) That the calamity of the noble lady
had endeared her to me, more than it was possible the most prosperous
fortune could have done.
I, my good chevalier, may say any thing to you. We are undetermined
about every thing. We know not what to propose, what to consent to.
Your journey, on the first motion, though but from some of us, the dear
creature continuing ill; you in possession of a considerable estate,
exercising yourself in doing good in your native country; [You must think
we took all opportunities of inquiring after the man once so likely to be
one of us;] the first fortune in Italy, Olivia, though she is not a
Clementina, pursuing you in hopes of calling herself yours; (for to
England we hear she went, and there you own she is;) What obligations
have you laid upon us!--What can we determine upon? What can we wish?
Providence and you, madam, shall direct my steps.
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