impressions that were then made, and as to the plausibility of reviving,
at this more auspicious period, his claims on the heart of his friend.
When he thought proper to notice these hints, he gave me to understand
that time had made no essential alteration in his sentiments in this
respect; that he still fostered a hope, to which every day added new
vigour; that, whatever was the ultimate event, he trusted in his
fortitude to sustain it, if adverse, and in his wisdom to extract from
it the most valuable consequences, if it should prove prosperous.

The progress of things was not unfavourable to his hopes. She treated
his insinuations and professions with levity; but her arguments seemed
to be urged with no other view than to afford an opportunity of
confutation; and, since there was no abatement of familiarity and
kindness, there was room to hope that the affair would terminate
agreeably to his wishes.




Chapter VII.


Clarice, meanwhile, was absent. Her friend seemed, at the end of a
month, to be little less distant from the grave than at first. My
impatience would not allow me to wait till her death. I visited her, but
was once more obliged to return alone. I arrived late in the city, and,
being greatly fatigued, I retired almost immediately to my chamber.

On hearing of my arrival, Sarsefield hastened to see me. He came to my
bedside, and such, in his opinion, was the importance of the tidings