Mary Delaward. Time was when I had no concealment from her; but to this state of mental solitude has my own wilful folly reduced me. With what bitter, what vain regret do I recur to the past; and with what dread, anticipate the future! So young as I am, too-how dreary, how cheerless, are my prospects! A few months ago, whose were more brilliant?- blessed with youth, health, fortune, station; and, above all, with parents so indulgent as to anticipate my every wish. Fatal, fatal indulgence! All this happiness I have perverted by my own folly. I forced these too indulgent parents to yield my hand to one I did not love and that one step has plunged me irretrievably in ruin!

While we were in conversation on this momentous affair, a servant entered with let

ters. One of them was an anonymous one, filled with charges against Lady Annandale; stating that her liaison with Lord Nottingham was no longer a secret to the public, and that it was even known that more than one of the servants had found the door of her ladyship's boudoir locked on the inside, when she was tête-à-tête with Lord Nottingham.

He read this epistle aloud to me, and was nearly maddened by its contents. I affected to

doubt the truth of the statement, well knowing the fact; for I it was who slily turned the key of the door by which company enters the boudoir, before I retreated by the private door used only by Lady Annandale and myself. The letter I suspect to emanate from one of the servants; for the practice is not, I am told, an unusual one in London, on such occasions.

I left Annandale writing to his solicitor to come and examine the domestics; on the

subject of the locked door; and, as I know the evidence of, at least, two of them will establish that fact, I have no doubt of the result. I must leave this house before the esclandre occurs; for it might be injurious to my future position in society to be at all mixed up with it. To go to the Comtesse Hohenlinden would not be advisable, for she is in very mauvais odeur here. In addition to this objection, her lynx eyes would quickly discover the newly developed tendresse of Lord Annandale for me, and its probable result when he obtains his freedom- an anticipation which would rapidly convert her into an inveterate foe. I, therefore, see no course for me to adopt, but to return to ma triste tante in the country; there to vegetate until a divorce enables Lord Annandale to demand my hand. I shall write, therefore, to my aunt by this post, saying that the air of London disagrees with me, and

asking her to send her carriage for me forthwith. This prudent measure will, I know, gratify Lord Annandale.

And now for the most disagreeable part of the affair-an interview with Augusta; vis-à-vis to whom I feel certain uneasy qualms of conscience, which nothing soothes but the conviction, that, after all the publicity of this business is over, she will become the wife of the man she loves, and have to thank me for being the cause of her felicity. I owe her a compensation for having urged her into a marriage which she does not like, and heartily hope she will enjoy all the happiness I wish her; for I cannot help entertaining for her a mingled sentiment of pity and affection, knowing, as I do, the goodness and innocence of la pauvre petite.

Again I resume my pen; but I make no

excuses for this interminably long letter, knowing that you will be all curiosity to learn how this complicated plot of mine works. I found Augusta reclined on the sofa in her dressingroom, pale as marble, and apparently agitated. After answering my inquiries respecting her health by a few brief words, stating the illness her looks but too plainly denoted, she told me that "a most extraordinary occurrence had taken place; her escritoire had been opened, and a diary which she had lately kept (how the poor soul blushed when she named it!) had disappeared."

I looked the very personification of surprise and innocence; could not possibly imagine how such a thing could have happened; asked whether she had searched every place for it; and hoped it contained nothing of any importance. I pitied her visible consternation, as she acknowledged that the diary did contain thoughts