THE COUNTESS OF ANNANDALE TO LA MARQUISE DE VILLEROI. I WRITE to you, ma chère Delphine, while Lord Annandale is at the House of Lords: I have given orders to be denied to all visitors, and find a relief in unburdening my overcharged breast to you. But first let me express, though I can only faintly do so, how deeply, how truly, I deplore the painful circumstances in which you and poor Florestan are placed. I must, however, do more than sympathise with you, ma paurre chère amie. The five thousand pounds bequeathed me by the dear and wronged Augusta, shall be forthwith remitted to Paris, and placed at your disposal. If it be sufficient to extricate Florestan from prison I shall rejoice; if not, it will, at all events, conduce to render his sejour in that melancholy abode less annoying, and leave you less dependent on his aunt. Do not wrong me, chère Delphine, by supposing that I could now smile, as in past times, at the affection of Florestan and yourself. Far from it; I would conjure you both to cultivate it to the utmost, convinced, as I now am, that happiness is to be found alone in domestic love, the only love that is free from sorrow or reproach. A parcel has just been brought me, containing the most beautiful pair of diamond bracelets imaginable, a gift from Lord Annandale. How he overpowers me with generosity and tenderness, of which I know myself to be so unworthy! How strange and inscrutable is the human heart! If, when I formed my vile and wicked scheme of destroying the reputation of the pure, the sainted Augusta, in VOL. III. N order to take her place, any one had told me that I should ever entertain the affection for Lord Annandale which I now feel, I should have smiled in derision at the seeming improbability. Yet I do love him — not, it is true, with the wild and enthusiastic passion of early youth, but with a tenderness and a gratitude which continued kindness could alone excite. This new-born sentiment adds to my misery, by making me tremble at the possibility of the loss of his-a misfortune inevitable, should he discover my crimes. A letter from Paris, but the superscription is not in your hand, so I shall let it remain unopened for the present. Hark! I hear some one coming; it must beit is, my dear, my kind husband. LA MARQUISE DE VILLEROI TO THE PLAIGNEZ moi, ma chère Caroline, car je suis la plus malheureuse de femmes. Deceived by him I trusted, by him for whom I incurred my mother's lasting displeasure and my own reproach. I am wretched, and I know not where to turn for consolation. I told you in my last that I had written to the duc, to inform him of the disagreeable dilemma in which I am placed, and to state my intention of seeking an asylum at the Comtesse de Hauteforte's. When Lisette returned from his hotel, I perceived an expression of mingled anger and grief in her countenance, that I fancied boded me no good; and when I tore open the letter, alas! my fears were but too well confirmed. His mode of address ing me was so constrained, so cold and ceremonious, that I had not perused three lines of his note before I felt convinced he no longer loved me. I questioned Lisette as to the cause of her changed aspect; dreading, yet impatient to learn, if it had any reference to the duc, or if she could explain the cause of his estrangement. My reiterated commands to tell me all she knew, drew from her the confession that François, the valet de chambre of the duc, who had long since promised her marriage, had treated her with the utmost coldness and disdain. The poor creature wept bitterly while she related her lover's cruelty. He had told her that the duc had commanded him to break off his attachment to mademoiselle Lisette, and to transfer it to the femme de chambre of the lady with whom he, the duc, is at present in love. Think, chère Caroline, what I felt at hearing this! The blood receded |