was rooted in his Heart, yet could he not Comfort himself with any Hopes when he should see her: He knew not where she lived, and she had made him no Promise of a second Conference.  Then did he repent his inconsiderate Choice, in preferring the momentary Vision of her Face, to a certain Intelligence of her Person.  Every thought that succeeded distracted him, and all the Hopes he could presume upon, were within compass of the Two Days Merriment yet to come; for which Space he hop’d he might excuse his remaining conceal’d to his Father.

Hippolito on the other side (though Aurelian thought him in a much better Way) was no less afflicted for himself.  The Difficulties which he saw in his Friend’s Circumstances, put him upon finding out a great many more in his own, than really there were.  But what terrified him most of all, was his being an utter Stranger to Leonora; she had not the least knowledge of him but through mistake, and consequently could form no Idea of him to his Advantage.  He look’d upon it as an unlucky thought in Aurelian to take upon him his Name, since possibly the Two Ladies were acquainted, and should they communicate to each other their Adventures; they might both reasonably suffer in their Opinions, and be thought guilty of Falshood, since it would appear to them as One Person pretending to Two.  Aurelian told him, there was but one Remedy for that, which was for Hippolito, in the same Manner that he had done, to make use of his Name, when he writ to Leonora, and use what arguments he could to perswade her to Secrecy, least his Father should know of the Reason which kept him concealed in Town.  And it was likely, though perhaps she might not immediately entertain his Passion; yet she would out of Generosity conceal, what was hidden only for her sake.

Well this was concluded on, after a great many other Reasons used on either Side, in favour of the Contrivance; they at last argued themselves into a Belief, that Fortune had befriended them with a better Plot, than their regular Thinking could have contriv’d.  So soon had they convinc’d themselves, in what they were willing to believe.

Aurelian laid himself down to rest, that is, upon the Bed; for he was a better Lover than to pretend to sleep that Night, while Hippolito set himself again to frame his Letter design’d for Leonora.  He writ several, at last pitched upon one, and very probably the worst, as you may guess when you read it in its proper Place.

It was break of Day when the Servant, who had been employed all the foregoing Day in procuring Accoutrements for the Two Cavaliers, to appear in at the Tilting, came into the Room, and told them all the Young Gentlemen in the Town were trying their Equipage, and preparing to be early in the Lists.  They made themselves ready with all Expedition at the Alarm: and Hippolito having made a Visit to his Governour, dispatch’d a Messenger with the Letter and Directions to Leonora.  At the Signal agreed upon the Casement was opened and a String let down, to which the Bearer having fastned the Letter, saw it drawn up, and returned.  It were a vain attempt to describe Leonora’s Surprize, when she read the Superscription.—The Unfortunate Aurelian, to the Beautiful Leonora—After she was a little recovered from her Amaze, she recollected to her self all the Passages between her and her supposed Cousin, and immediately concluded him to be Aurelian.  Then several little Circumstances which she thought might have been sufficient to have convinced her, represented themselves to her; and she was in a strange Uneasiness to think of her free Carriage to a Stranger.

She was once in a Mind to have burn’d the Letter, or to have stay’d for an Opportunity to send it again.  But she was a Woman, and her Curiosity opposed it self to all thoughts of that Nature: at length with a firm Resolution, she opened it, and found Word for Word, what is underwritten.

The Letter.

MADAM,

If your fair Eyes, upon the breaking up of this, meet with somewhat too quick a Surprize, make thence, I beseech you, some reflection upon the Condition I must needs have been in, at the suddain Appearance of that Sun of Beauty, which at once shone so full upon my soul.  I could not immediately disengage my self from that Maze of Charms, to let you know how unworthy a Captive your Eyes had made through mistake.  Sure, Madam, you cannot but remember my Disorder, of which your Innocent (Innocent, though perhaps to me Fatal) Error made a Charitable (but wide) Construction.  Your Tongue pursued the Victory of your Eyes, and you did not give me time to rally my poor Disordered Senses, so as to make a tolerable Retreat.  Pardon, Madam, the Continuation of the Deceipt, and call it not so, that I appear’d to be other than my self; for Heaven knows I was not then my self, nor am I now my own.  You told me something that concern’d me nearly, as to a Marriage my Father design’d me, and much more nearly in being told by you.  For Heaven’s sake, disclose not to any Body your Knowledge of me, that I may not be forced to an immediate Act of Disobedience; for if my future Services and inviolate Love, cannot recommend me to your Favour, I shall find more comfort in the cold Embraces of a Grave, than in the Arms of the never so much admired (but by me dreaded) Juliana.  Think, Madam, of those severe Circumstances I lie under; and withal I beg you, think it is in your Power, and only in your Power, to make them happy as my Wishes, or much more miserable than I am able to imagine.  That dear, inestimable (though undesign’d) Favour which I receiv’d from you, shall this Day distinguish me from the Crowd of your Admirers; that which I really applied to my inward bleeding Wound, the welcom Wound which you have made, and which, unless from you, does wish no Cure; then pardon and have pity on, O Adored Leonora, him, who is your’s by Creation as he is Heaven’s, though never so unworthy.  Have pity on

Your
Aurelian.

She read the Letter over and over, then flung it by, then read it again; the Novelty of the Adventure made her repeat her Curiosity, and take more than ordinary Pains to understand it.  At last her Familiarity with the Expressions grew to an Intimacy, and what she at first permitted she now began to like.  She thought there was something in it a little more serious, than to be barely Gallantry.  She wondred at her own Blindness, and fancy’d she could remember something of a more becoming Air in the Stranger than was usual to Lorenzo.  This thought was parent to another of the same kind, till a long Chain successively had Birth, and every one somewhat more than other, in Favour of the supposed Aurelian.  She reflected upon his Discretion, in deferring the Discovery of himself, till a little time had, as it were, weaned her from her perswasion, and by removing her farther from her Mistake, had prepared her for a full and determinate Convincement.  She thought his Behaviour, in personating a Sick Man so readily, upon the first hint was not amiss, and smil’d to think of his Excuse to procure her Handkerchief; and last of all, his sifting out the Means to write to her, which he had done with that Modesty and Respect, she could not tell how to find fault with it.

She had proceeded thus far in a maze of Thought, when she started to find her self so lost to her Reason, and would have trod back again that path of deluding Fancy; accusing her self of Fondness, and inconsiderate Easiness, in giving Credit to the Letter of a Person whose Face she never saw, and whose first Acquaintance with her was a Treachery, and he who could so readily deliver his Tongue of a Lye upon a Surprize, was scarce to be trusted when he had sufficient Time allow’d him to beget a Fiction, and Means to perfect the Birth.

How did she know this to be Aurelian, if he were?  Nay farther, put it to the Extremity, What if she should upon farther Conversation with him proceed to Love him?  What Hopes were