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The Vicar of Wakefield.

As he entered, he made Miss Wilmot a mo­dest and distant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted with the change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought in his favour. But no decorums could re­strain the impatience of his blushing mis­tress to be forgiven. Her tears, her looks, all contributed to discover the real sensations of her heart for having forgotten her former promise and having suffered herself to be deluded by an impostor. My son appeared amazed at her condescension, and could scarce believe it real———"Sure, madam," cried he, "this is but delusion! I can ne­ver have merited this! To be blest thus is to be too happy."———"No, Sir," re­plied she, "I have been deceived, basely deceived, else nothing could have ever made me unjust to my promise. You know my friendship, you have long known it; but forget what I have done, and as you once had my warmest vows of"con-