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separation caused by death appears to me less terrible than the moral divorce of two hearts that ought to love, but cannot sympathise. She on whose portrait I gaze is not more separated from him than I am. An inseparable barrier, that of indifference, divides us, but he heeds it not: the heart is a possession he seeks not to acquire. There is a picture of her in every room. He must have loved, or have fancied that he loved her : yet now he seems to think of her no more than if she had never existed, while I can think of nothing else. How can we forget those dear to us, and lost? Methinks that,

From out the grave of every friend we loved
Springs up a flower (as fabulists relate,
Arose from the red stream of Ajax's wound);
Memory 'tis named; and, watered by our tears,
It lives and grows, until its fibres strike
Into the heart, nor leave it until death.

No; I was mistaken when I said he must have loved her. There is an indelicacy and insensibility in this parade of all the memorials of his first wife, that prove he could never have loved either of us. If I loved him, I could not bear all these mementos of another; and, even as it is, when he stoops to kiss my brow, I find myself unconsciously looking at her picture, as if I expected it would betray some symptom of dissatisfaction. When he returned home, which was not until four o'elock in the morning, he hardly apologised, either for the length of his absence, or the unseasonableness of his return.

He was, as he always is, in high spirits ; (how I dislike a person that is always in high spirits !) seemed elated by his encounter with his different friends, and talked of the parties he had arranged for me; an endless succession, it would appear, of dinners, balls, and


I asked, where was his child ? and he


“ Oh, by the by, I quite forgot poor little St. Aubyn. He is at Richmond, for he has been ailing --cutting his teeth, or afflicted by some other of the endless maladies to which children

are subject.”

And this man is a father! I will go to Richmond to-morrow, and see this poor child, who shall not, while I live, want a mother. I already love, because I pity it ; and shall derive from it more pleasure than from all the gaieties which its parent has promised to obtain for me.


your affectionate




Indeed you are to blame, dear Augusta, in thus giving way to depression, and expecting from Lord Annandale a sensibility that few men ever retained after twenty-five; and none, even to that period, who have made society and its artificial enjoyments the principal object of life. There has been no deception on his part; he shewed himself, from the beginning, in his true colours; one of those who like, and are liked by, the world, as they style that small portion of it which is comprised in the fashionable circle of the metropolis. The succès de société is the utmost extent of his ambition; he has acquired it himself, at the expense of the more solid and sterling qualities, which a contact with the world is so calculated to injure,

if not destroy ; and he now, doubtless, wishes to secure it for you. He captivated your youthful mind by his descriptions of that society in which you are now called to enact a part; and you are unreasonable in expecting that he will abandon the habits which he has indulged for years, ignorant, as he probably is, that you disapprove of them.

A romantic mind, to sympathise with yours, you must not expect to find in Lord Annandale; but a kind, good-tempered, and cheerful companion, you may calculate upon, and must be content with. This is more than falls to the lot of all; for remember that happiness consists, not in having much, but in being content with little. Greatly as I contemn artifice, there is sometimes a necessity of adopting it in married life. I refer to, perhaps, the only occasion where it is innocent, which is, that of not appearing conscious of a hus

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