_To Miss Beverley_.

Madam,--My mother is gone to market, and I must not go out without her
leave; I have run to the door at every knock this whole week in hopes
you were coming, and my heart has jumpt at every coach that has gone
through the street. Dearest lady, why did you tell me you would come? I
should not have thought of such a great honour if you had not put it in
my head. And now I have got the use of a room where I can often be
alone for two or three hours together. And so I shall this morning, if
it was possible my dear Miss Beverley could come. But I don't mean to
be teasing, and I would not be impertinent or encroaching for the
world; but only the thing is I have a great deal to say to you, and if
you was not so rich a lady, and so much above me, I am sure I should
love you better than any body in the whole world, almost; and now I
dare say I shan't see you at all; for it rains very hard, and my
mother, I know, will be sadly angry if I ask to go in a coach. O dear!
I don't know what I can do! for it will half break my heart, if my dear
Miss Beverley should go out of town, and I not see her!--I am, Madam,
with the greatest respectfulness, your most humble servant,

HENRIETTA BELFIELD.

This artless remonstrance, joined to the intelligence that she could
see her alone, made Cecilia instantly order a chair, and go herself to
Portland-street: for she found by this letter there was much doubt if
she could otherwise see her, and the earnestness of Henrietta made her
now not endure to disappoint her. "She has much," cried she, "to say to
me, and I will no longer refuse to hear her; she shall unbosom to me
her gentle heart, for we have now nothing to fear from each other. She
promises herself pleasure from the communication, and doubtless it must