shall this heart be laid bare to her who rules it; for, if I dare not seek her compassion, I would not incur her contempt, by such an unhallowed avowal.

Ever, my dear Mordaunt,

Sincerely yours,

NOTTINGHAM.

FROM LA MARQUISE DE VILLEROI TO

MISS MONTRESSOR.

CHÈRE CAROLINE,-your last letter has given me great pain. How dreadful, that De Carency should have proved himself in every way so vile! How base must that man be, who betrays the errors to which his own duplicity gave birth! I could forgive his betrayal of my indiscretion, as, grace à Dieu! I have escaped

all the evil effects to which it might have led ; but, as you are still unmarried, this exposure of the faiblesse of your youth may be most mischievous.

I told Florestan, who was furious at the wretch's conduct. He says, that he lately heard that De Carency had been seen in a state of extreme poverty, to which his follies and crimes had reduced him; that he was wholly abandoned by his family, whom he has disgraced, and was hardly to be recognised: such was the change wrought in him, by the dissolute life he has led. Would to heaven he were dead! for he is always capable of annoying me, and exposing you, should it suit his plans so to do.

How delightful it must have been, ma chère, to have lived in the time of l'ancien régime, when it was so easy to procure a lettre de cachet, and immure any troublesome person. Fancy

the comfort of shutting up such a man as this, and so effecting two good purposes: the first, that of preventing his giving publicity to the secret he knows; and the second, the precluding him from further disgracing his family. Yes, those times were, indeed, infinitely preferable to these, when one cannot shut up even a worthless menial, unless the law so will it. All the privileges and immunities of la noblesse are destroyed; and, except for the pleasure of having a coronet emblazoned on one's carriage and plate, there is no advantage to be derived from a title. What a sad state of things!

I like the conduct of your little romantic friend, Lady Annandale, very much, in this affair of the disclosure; for her romanticism seems to spring from the heart, and not the head, qui fait toute la difference. I value hers the more, as here, l'école romantique is founded on the imagination; it is an effervescence of

sentimentality, that operates not on the affecWith us,

tions, nor influences the conduct.

the most romantic people are precisely those who have the least real feeling; while, with you, au contraire, the romantic seems to spring from the heart.

Such a woman could not be happy, according to her notions, with a man like her husband; and half the women in the world, and particularly Englishwomen, will only be happy in their own way, a species of conduct which is-if you, ma chère, will permit a very homely comparison-like that of a hungry man, who determines to appease his appetite with certain viands only, which, not being able to procure, he refuses to accept any substitute; or, if he accepts, murmurs at the disappointment. This is a folly peculiar to woman, and betrays a great want of philosophy: but, though I am aware it is a weakness, I pity those who are its victims.

Lady Annandale would require such a man for a husband as you describe Lord Nottingham to be; and, having missed him (a sad mistake!), will probably be consoled by having him for a friend, until she finds that friendship between a beautiful young woman and a highly gifted, sentimental man, is rather a dangerous experiment. She will love him; and, being romanesque, this sentiment, instead of reconciling her to her destiny, will make her more than ever dissatisfied with it. With some women, love and crime seem inseparable. She will first fear him she loves, then herself, and, afterwards, all that seems to encourage the sentiment, until she has rendered her lover unhappy, and herself miserable.

Women like your friend were not born to bestow, or enjoy happiness, except in the legitimate way; consequently, I fear all your schemes will but tend to increase her discomforts, unless