« fafety, my Geraldine; you are bleffed "with a daughter. Your ufeful life is fpared to your husband, your infant, "your father, your friends, your country. "It is a general, a public benefit: but "let your dejected Lucy lift her grateful "voice amid the univerfal joy, and "adore that kind Providence which has preferved her from further depriva❝ tions. " "We fhall meet, my beloved friend, " and I truft foon. Sir William has juft left us. He is in raptures at this " event, though a little inclined to regret that he has not a grandfon. It "is all for the best, he says; he doubts "not, when he fees the pretty creature, "he fhall be as fond of it as he was of "his own Geraldine. I took it a little “hard,' faid he, that my girl did not come to Powerfcourt at the time 'prefixed; but fhe will now bring the << dear "dear infant along with her, and I shall "have two pleasures inftead of one.' "Excellent man! He has laid a fcheme, he fays, to make us all happy "together. He infifts that my father " and I fhall live with you at the manor"houfe during the time of your ex"pected vifit. He fays, he can divert "Mr. Evans with a hit at backgammon; " and that it will do my fpirits good to "have a great deal of chat with you. "Don't be fo caft down, my dear god"daughter,' he continued, we are all "mortal you know; and your good mo"ther is now much happier than it was " even in your power to make her.' "I know you love to hear your "father's words repeated with all their genuine benevolence and fimplicity. "He has truly fulfilled the precept of frequenting the house of mourning., "Scarcely a day has paffed without his " visiting * visiting us, and his kind folicitude has been attended with confiderable "advantage. It is impoffible to con"verse with him without feeling a por"tion of his tranquil spirit diffused into "our own bosoms. "Adieu, dear lady Monteith!-How "I long to fee you in your matronly "character, to fold your little babe in my arms, and in the contemplation "of your deserved felicity to lofe for a "time the recollection of my own irre"mediable forrows!" Lady Monteith's recovery was rapid, and fhe was foon able to introduce the young nursery to the eager expectants at Powerscourt. Her lord, though exceffively anxious for her fafe journey, and doatingly fond of his little moppet, would not accompany them. Business of the greatest importance prevented him; his engagements at fishing parties, bowling VOL, II, D bowling meetings, and cricket matches,> were fo numerous, that it was abfolutely impoffible to break them. "Take "the greatest care of yourself, therefore, "my dear Geraldine, till I can come "and take care of you. You may de-› "pend upon it, that I fhall fet off to "fee your father act the old courtier> "of the Queen's, the first moment I am> "difengaged, for I cannot long be happy "without you. By-the-bye, I think your father unreasonable in infifting "upon having so much of your company." I pass by fir William's rapturous reception of his daughter, the unaffected transport of the countefs, and the tears of mingled pain and pleasure which stole filently down Lucy's faded cheek. I fhall not dwell upon the unaffected dignity with which Mr. Evans ftrove to prevent his forrows from cafting a gloom gloom over the general joy, nor the repeated marks of grateful veneration and affection which lady Monteith paid to the memory of her deceased friend. We will suppose that, holding by her Lucy's arm, fhe vifited the fpot which contained the facred remains of her loft monitress; that he liftened to the in teresting narrative of her fickness and death, and, mingling her own tears with thofe of her amiable companion, repeated the remembered precepts of the guardian of her youth, and enjoined upon herself the imitation of her virtues. The reader will recollect, that to these duties lady Monteith had added an additional bond-a promise given to the deceased," that if her friendship could. "avail, her Lucy would never be un"happy." It will also be remembered, that Mr. Powerscourt frequently wrote to his coufin, D2 |