with the same affection as her own daughter.

Sir Ralph Trusty, on being informed his young charge was come to town, came the next day to Mr. Goodman's to visit her: his lady accompanied him. There had been a great intimacy and friendship between her and the mother of Miss Betsy, and she could not hold in her arms the child of a person so dear to her without letting fall some tears, which were looked upon by the company as the tribute due to the memory of the dead. The conjecture, in part, might be true, but the flow proceeded from the mixture of another motive, not suspected—that of compassion for the living. This lady was a woman of great prudence, piety, and virtue: she had heard many things relating to the conduct of Lady Mellasin, which made her think her a very unfit person to have the care of youth, especially those of her own sex. She had been extremely troubled when Sir Ralph told her that Miss Betsy was sent for from the country to live under such tuition, and would have fain opposed it, could she have done so without danger of creating a misunderstanding between him and Mr. Goodman, well knowing the bigotted respect the latter had for his wife, and how unwilling he would be to do any thing that had the least tendency to thwart her inclinations. She communicated her sentiments, however, on this occasion, to no person in the world, not even to her own husband; but resolved, within herself, to take all the opportunities that fell in her way, of giving Miss Betsy such instructions as she thought necessary for her behaviour in general, and especially towards the family in which it was her lot to be placed.

Miss Betsy was now just entering into her fourteenth year, a nice and delicate time in persons of her sex; since it is then they are most apt to take the bent of impression, which, according as it is well or ill directed, makes or mars the future prospect of their lives. She was tall, well-shaped, and perfectly amiable, without being what is called a compleat beauty; and as she wanted nothing to render her liable to the greatest temptations, so she stood in need of the surest arms for her defence against them.

But while this worthy lady was full of cares for the well doing of a young creature who appeared so deserving of regard, Miss Betsy thought she had the highest reason to be satisfied with her situation; and how, indeed, could it be otherwise? Lady Mellasin kept a great deal of company; she received visits every morning, from ten to one o'clock, from the most gay and polite of both sexes; all the news of the town was talked on at her levee, and it seldom happened that some party of pleasure was not formed for the ensuing evening, in all which Miss Betsy and Miss Flora had their share.

Never did the mistress of a private family indulge herself, and those about her, with such a continual round of publick diversions! The court, the play, the ball, and opera, with giving and receiving visits, engrossed all the time that could be spared from the toilette. It cannot, therefore, seem strange that Miss Betsy, to whom all these things were entirely new, should have her head turned with the promiscuous enjoyment, and the very power of reflection lost amidst the giddy whirl; nor that it should be so long before she could recover it enough to see the little true felicity of such a course of life.

Among the many topicks with which this brilliant society entertained each other, it may easily be supposed that love and gallantry were not excluded. Lady Mellasin, though turned of forty, had her fine things said to her; but both heaven and earth were ransacked for comparisons in favour of the beauty of Miss Flora and Miss Betsy: but as there was nothing particular in these kind of addresses, intended only to shew the wit of those who made them, these young ladies answered them only with raillery, in which art Miss Betsy soon learned to excel. She had the glory, however, of being the first who excited a real passion in the heart of any of those who visited Lady Mellasin; though, being accustomed to hear declarations which had the appearance of love, yet were really no more than words of course, and made indiscriminately to every fine woman, she would not presently persuade herself that this was more serious.

The first victim of her charms was the only son of a very rich alderman; and having a fortune left him by a relation, independent of his father, who was the greatest miser in the world, he was furnished with the means of mingling with the beau monde, and of making one at every diversion that was proposed.

He had fancied Miss Flora a mighty fine creature, before he saw Miss Betsy; but the imaginary flame he had for her was soon converted into a sincere one for the other. He truly loved her, and was almost distracted at the little credit she gave to his professions. His perseverance, his tremblings whenever he approached her, his transports on seeing her, his anxieties at taking leave, so different from what she had observed in any other of those who had pretended to lift themselves under the banner of her charms, at length convincing her of the conquest she had made, awakened in her breast that vanity so natural to a youthful mind. She exulted, she plumed herself, she used him ill and well by turns, taking an equal pleasure in raising or depressing his hopes; and, in spite of her good-nature, felt no satisfaction superior to that of the consciousness of a power of giving pain to the man who loved her: but with how great a mortification this short-lived triumph was succeeded, the reader shall presently be made sensible.

CHAPTER III

Affords matter of condolence, or raillery, according to the humour the reader happens to be in for either

We often see, that the less encouragement is given to the lover's suit, with the more warmth and eagerness he prosecutes it; and many people are apt to ascribe this hopeless perseverance to an odd perverseness in the very nature of love; but, for my part, I rather take it to proceed from an ambition of surmounting difficulties: it is not, however, my province to enter into any discussion of so nice a point; I deal only in matters of fact, and shall not meddle with definition.

It was not till after Miss Betsy had reason to believe she had engaged the heart of her lover too far for him to recal it, that she began to take a pride in tormenting. While she looked on his addresses as of a piece with those who called themselves her admirers, she had treated him in that manner which she thought would most conduce to make him really so; but no sooner did she perceive, by the tokens before mentioned, that his passion was of the most serious nature, than she behaved to him in a fashion quite the reverse, especially before company; for as she had not the least affection, or even a liking towards him, his submissive deportment under the most cold, sometimes contemptuous, carriage, could afford her no other satisfaction, than, as she fancied, it shewed the power of her beauty, and piqued those ladies of her acquaintance, who could not boast of such an implicit resignation and patient suffering from their lovers; in particular, Miss Flora, who she could not forbear imagining looked very grave on the occasion. What foundation there was for a conjecture of this nature was nevertheless undiscoverable till a long time after.

As this courtship was no secret to any of the family, Mr. Goodman thought himself obliged, both as the guardian of Miss Betsy, and the friend of Alderman Saving, (for so the father of this young enamorato was called) to enquire upon what footing it stood. He thought, that if the old man knew and approved of his son's inclinations, he would have mentioned the affair to him, as they frequently saw