point to Miss Montressor; yet, what could be the inducement to conduct at once so wicked and so apparently causeless? I can discover no clue to this labyrinth of crime; but I loathe and execrate myself, for having furnished the occasion for its wearing, even for a moment, the semblance of probability, which it never could have done, but for my attentions. Lady Annandale is ill-confined to her bed. All this I learn through the newspapers; for, I dare not, under present circumstances, send to inquire at her father's door. Consequently, I, who could not bear to think of being a single day without seeing her, and who, for the accomplishment of this selfish enjoyment, have compromised her reputation, am now debarred the privilege of even a common acquaintance that of sending to inquire after her health; and dare not even hope ever to behold her again. Her innocence of this foul charge must be made manifest: nothing but the most wilful perjury can be brought against her. However, whether acquitted or condemned, too well do I know her, to indulge a hope that she would ever again consent to see me, and thus give a colour to the odious suspicions my attentions have excited. Lady Delaward has come to London, to be near her. I was sure she would; for, she is not a woman to doubt the purity of which her own feelings must be the guarantee; or to shrink from the responsibility of countenancing the innocence she does not doubt. She is worthy to be the friend of Augusta. But let me not use that name with a familiarity that I dare not adopt were she present; for, notwithstanding her youth and inexperience, never yet did a woman preserve a more dignified reserve than Lady Annandale,- a reserve that emanated from the inherent modesty of her nature. I wander about at night like a disturbed spirit, and find myself continually in Grosvenor Square, gazing on the house that contains this suffering angel. The whole of the side where Lord Vernon's house stands is covered with straw; the knocker is tied up; and the entire mansion has an air of gloom and desolation which chills my heart. It was in that house, which now presents so dull and cheerless an aspect, that, a few weeks ago, I saw this lovely creature, in all the bloom of health and youth. How looks she now? Bowed down by shame and sorrow; for, well do I know, that even the consciousness of her innocence will not enable her to support the false, the insulting suspicions, to which her honour is exposed; and by me! me, who should have shielded - it. from even the shadow of a doubt. I have been her bitterest, cruellest enemy; and she must loathe me, when she reflects on the irreparable injury I have inflicted on her. I never go out during the day, or receive any visits. I could not bear, at such a crisis, to meet the eye of curiosity, or to have my looks or manner commented upon, and cited as presumptive proofs of the truth or falsehood of the vile charge against that honour I know to be so spotless. To affect a cheerfulness utterly repugnant to my feelings, would be impossible; and the gloomy despondency I cannot shake off, would be considered as evidence of guilt. O world! world! how often are your conclusions erroneous! and how prone are you to attribute the vilest motives to actions, where guilt never was imagined! I destroy all the newspapers that refer to this foul libel; and writhe in agony when I reflect how many thousands of them will circulate in the various parts of the globe, disseminating far and wide these infamous : aspersions on the fame of this angel and II am the cause of all this! Better could I have borne that she had died while yet her reputation was as stainless as is her life, than have lived to see her name profaned, and made the subject of the ribald jests of the vile and vicious. Bear with me, my dear Mordaunt; and believe me Ever yours, NOTTINGHAM. |