and Clarissa took care that every thing should be prepared in the way she best liked. At the moment when she heard the carriage drive up to the door, she took her little infant, who was always dressed with the most exact and delicate neatness, and laid her asleep, as she then happened to be, upon the cradle-bed so often spoken of before, and which had always stood in her mother's room since it had been occupied by herself an infant.

No sooner had Mrs. Danzy stepped from the carriage, than the affectionate daughter kissed her, and taking her hand, addressed her thus-" Now, my dearest mother, you shall be made happy; you shall rejoice in a little Clarissa, an infant whose sweet smiles can hardly fail to chase away all your tears." So saying, she took her mother's hand, and led her to the bed where lay the sleeping baby.

Mrs. Danzy started, changed colour, and bursting into tears, threw her arms round her daughter's neck, evidently at a loss to comprehend the meaning of so novel a spectacle. Then looking at the baby, and falling on her knees by the bed-side, while she pressed her lips on the dimpled hand of the infant, "I know not what to think, I know not what to say!" she exclaimed. "Is this my own child?"

"Yes, dear mother, it is," said Clarissa; "all your own! but I am its nurse.

Mrs. Danzy lifted up her eyes, and clasped her hands together. "I am," she said, "I am a very, very poor sinful creature. O Lord, I have been impatient under trials, and thankless, though enjoying countless blessings. I deserve not the least of thy favours, and am confounded at the thought of my own unworthiness: but thou, O Lord, art infinitely merciful, and hast never dealt with me according to my transgressions. I receive this sweet infant as a pledge of thy love, and as a token that thou still hast purposes of mercy for me.' The poor lady could say no more, being overcome with joy and gratitude, insomuch that she knelt weeping by the cradle till led away to tea by her daughter.

From that time, it was impossible to discover whether Mrs. Danzy considered this infant as her own or not; for whenever she attempted to speak upon the subject,

her manner and expressions became so confused, as to render it necessary to lead her from the point. Notwithstanding which, her affection for the infant was like that of the tenderest mother; and there was no delight which she could taste equal to that of watching and attending this sweet child.

Mr. and Mrs. Melville were blessed with several children, whom they brought up carefully in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and in the practice of filial piety. There could not be a more delightful sight, than to see these lovely young creatures waiting on their grandmother, and striving who should be foremost to perform for her any little office of respect and kindness. Nor was it less touching to hear this poor lady giving them lessons of piety, which she would do in so excellent a manner as to make it evident to all who heard her, that, notwithstanding her affliction, she was fully sensible of the amazing importance of religion.

Thus passed year after year in this happy family. In the mean time, many and rapid changes took place in the family of Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp. For a few years after their mother left them, they continued to live in the most expensive manner; till, at length, becoming deeply involved in debt, they had nothing left for it but to fly their country. And it appeared, when their accounts came to be made up, that Mrs. Burton had contributed, together with a new steward, in no small degree, to their ruin.

Poor Mr. Barnet, who was employed with others in looking into their affairs, shook his head, and exclaimed, "Had I been trusted, this confusion would never have been known."

As the estate was entailed, it could not be sold: but Mrs. Beauchamp and her husband were obliged to give it up for their respective lives, and to be content with about five hundred a year; on which they retired to the Continent, whence nothing more was heard of the family till after several years, when the news of Mr. Beauchamp's death reached England. Mrs. Beauchamp, however, did not return on this occasion to her native country.

But when Adolphus Beauchamp came of age, he returned with his mother to England, and after remaining

with her some time in town, he contrived to get introduced to a very rich heiress; and, as he was an extremely handsome young man, he prevailed upon this. lady to marry him. Immediately after their marriage, as they possessed no country-house, the young people agreed to hire of the creditors the old family-mansion, until, by the liquidation of his father's debts, it should again devolve to the possession of the elder Mrs. Beauchamp.

The mansion was accordingly hired, and the family returned to the country, after having been absent from it about eighteen years. The elder Mrs. Beauchamp was at this time little more than forty, a handsome gay widow, and much elated by the advantageous match she imagined her son to have made. The prospect of living, in a dependent state, in a house where she had so long reigned in full power, gave her some pain, it is true; but she trusted that her daughter-in-law, being strongly attached to her husband, would not fail to shew his mother every kind attention: and as her private income was small, having been much diminished by many late expences incurred during her son's courtship, she was almost under the necessity of accepting an apartment in the old mansion.

On their arrival in the country, Clarissa hastened to see her sister and nephew, but was received with a coldness which precluded all idea of cordiality. The elder Mrs. Beauchamp was, on her first arrival in the country, considerably gratified by the show and splendour of her son's establishment, as well as by the elegant entertainments he was enabled to give his neighbours. But when the first bustle of paying and receiving visits was over, she had opportunity to discover much in her daughter-in-law which was calculated to cause her no small alarm. This young lady was exceedingly proud, and very ill-tempered; in addition to which she exercised an almost unbounded influence over her husband: and having taken care before her marriage to secure to herself the command of their purse, it was not long before her mother-in-law was made to feel the effect of her high and imperious spirit; insomuch that before a year was passed, several very sharp altercations had taken place between the two ladies.

After one of these, the elder Mrs. Beauchamp appealed

to her son; but was told, that, as she was not in her own house, she must submit to her who was an expression which she found it hard to bear from her only child. Many motives however induced her to submit, if possible; one of which, and that not the least, was a consciousness that she had been condemned for her conduct towards her own mother, and that her neighbours would rather be disposed to rejoice in her present affliction than to sympathize with her under it.

Thus this proud woman was induced to put up with indignities, which the meekest person would have found it difficult to support with patience. Since it was, however, the object of her daughter-in-law to make her house too uncomfortable for her mother-in-law to tarry long in it, all Mrs. Beauchamp's constrained forbearance could do nothing towards conciliating the young lady. In proportion as the old lady seemed willing to submit, in the same degree her daughter encroached; till, at length, her situation became so intolerable, that she resolved to leave the house, and find some humble lodging, where at least she might be free from insult.

The morning which this unhappy woman had appointed for quitting the house of her ungrateful children, was one which had been fixed upon in the happy family of Mrs. Melville for the marriage of their eldest daughter, concerning whom we last spoke as of a lovely infant sleeping in her cradle.

The connexion which this young lady was about to form was with a gentleman of no very large fortune indeed, but possessing many other very strong recommendations, such as piety, intelligence, industry, and a sweet temper; and withal being strongly attached to the lovely young person he was about to marry. His residence was to be fixed in the village, not far from Mr. Melville's house, where he intended to pursue a profession which he had already commenced with considerable suc

cess.

Such a marriage as this, which did not threaten an immediate separation between the beloved bride and her mother, could not but prove an occasion of great joy to this united and happy family. And it was at the moment when they were coming out of church, after the marriage-ceremony had taken place, that the assembled

family, as they were about to enter their carriages, were accosted by a person, who, running up hastily to them, requested assistance for a lady who had fainted at the door of a cottage close by.

The wedding-party consulted with each other for a few moments what was to be done, but it was only for a few moments: for a strong sense of pity overcoming all other feelings, they hastened to the cottage, which was very near the gates of the church-yard, where to their unspeakable surprise they beheld Mrs. Beauchamp lying insensible, in the arms of the cottager. "What does this mean?" said Clarissa, shocked beyond measure at her sister's situation: "what can this mean ?"

"Why, Madam," said the cottager, "they have turned the poor lady out of the mansion-house, the house where she was born and bred, and of which she was mistress so many years; and I verily believe she is brokenhearted."

“Turned her out of the mansion-house! is it possible?" said Clarissa. "Surely it cannot be true!"

"It is true indeed, Madam," returned the cottager: nothing can be more true." And then she proceeded to relate certain facts, which left the matter no longer in doubt.

On Mr. and Mrs. Melville's being convinced of the true state of the case, they hesitated not a moment upon the line of conduct which they ought to pursue; but, ordering up to the door of the cottage one of the carriages which were in waiting, they caused the fainting lady to be lifted into it, and rapidly conveyed to her sister's house, where, being laid on the best bed which the house would afford, such remedies were applied as speedily brought her to her senses.

The rest of the bridal party were assembled in the parlour below, at breakfast; while Clarissa alone, and the nurse, who had been called for the purpose, were standing by the side of the unhappy Isabella, when, recovering from her fainting-fit, she opened her eyes, and looked earnestly around her, not knowing where she was. Her sister then addressed her affectionately, informed her that she had just been made acquainted with her melancholy situation, and hoped that she would not refuse to accept an asylum in her house.