was handsome, but there was something sinister in her countenance. John dared not reply, and, confused by my presence, looked downward.
"What's the matter?" said Birton. "You look as if you had done something wrong. I come to give you absolution. Here is a little book I have just bought at Lintot's. It proves as clearly as two and two make four that there is neither God, nor vice, nor virtue—a very consoling fact! So, let us drink together."
On hearing this singular discourse, I withdrew quickly, and represented to Mr. Freind how much his son required his advice.
"I see it as clearly as you do," said this kind father; "but let us begin by paying his debts."
They were all discharged the next day. John came and threw himself at his father's feet. Will you believe it? The father made no reproaches. He left him to conscience, only observing: "Remember, my son, there is no happiness apart from virtue."
Mr. Freind then saw that the bachelor married Boca Vermeja, who really loved him, notwithstanding her tears for John. Women know how to confuse such feelings wonderfully. One would almost say that their hearts are a bundle of contradictions; perhaps because they were originally formed from one of our ribs.
Our generous Freind gave her also a dowry, and
