aunt but a few days before, and containing a hundred pound bank-note, with a pearl hoop-ring, recognised to be hers, and known by her attendant to have been in her possession the morning previous to her death.

He declares that these articles were given to him by my aunt. His daughter being on the point of marriage, his mistress presented him with a hundred pounds to add to her nuptial portion, and a ring for the intended bride.

All this he has protested, and all this I too well know to be true; for my aunt named the gifts to me, with many commendations on his zeal and integrity in her service, when we were at coffee, the last evening of her life. But if I state this fact, may not suspicion fall on some one equally innocent? I know not which way to turn, nor what to resolve; but I sicken with horror at thinking that a second life may be the victim to the fatal position in which I find myself. Another circumstance that tells against this poor man is, that a considerable increase to the bequest already made him in my aunt's will was added in the codicil that terrible night. unfortunate family are overwhelmed with despair: they alone believe him innocent; but those who have known and esteemed him for years, have already pronounced him guilty, and execrated his ingratitude and villany.

His

How awful, how inscrutable, are the ways of Providence! While this innocent man is in a prison, awaiting, perhaps, an ignominious death, the real criminal is wandering at liberty with his ill-acquired wealth! Does not all this seeming anomaly prove a future state of reward and punishment? Too surely it does; and dreadful will be the condition of those in that life, who escape their punishment in this!

Would that I had the certainty that the assassin was out of England; for, much as I loathe him, and desire that his atrocious crime should meet a condign retribution, I tremble at the idea of his being arrested in this country as I am convinced that he would not hesitate to com

promise my honour, if not my safety, by denouncing me in some way or other. Think of the horror, the degradation, of knowing that one's safety depends on such a wretch! Oh! it is too, too dreadful!

Yet

How different has been your fate to mine, Delphine! yet both equally sinned in our early youth. The consequences of that one false step, which has plunged me in the fearful position in which I now stand, have been comparatively harmless to you, because the partner of your indiscretion was not, as in my case, a villain. had Villeroi been my lover instead of yours, my poverty would have imposed an impassable barrier between us. He would have left me as the other did, to brave all the consequences of my crime; but he would not have added insult to injury. Your wealth, your station, would always have rendered your lover anxious to become your husband; and thus, that sin which has led to my ruin, has had no evil influence on your brilliant destiny.

Forgive me for thus comparing our different fates; like a drowning wretch, who catches at straws, I try to cheat myself into a belief that I am not quite so guilty as conscience tells me I am; but even this illusion is denied me; for too plainly does reason whisper, that to my own turpitude alone do I owe the pangs I endure, and the future I tremble to contemplate.

Adieu, Delphine! Pity your unfortunate friend,

CAROLINE.

VOL. II.

12

THE COUNTESS OF DELAWARD TO THE EARL OF DELAWARD.

You will, my beloved, I know, be desirous to learn how poor dear Augusta bore her first day's journey, and be delighted to hear that she has supported it wonderfully well. Her longing anxiety to get away from London, lent her, I do think, a factitious force, that has given birth to new hopes in the hearts of her father and mother; hopes which a sad presentiment assures me will never be realised. She begged so earnestly that we might leave London very early in the morning, that, to comply with her wishes, we were in the carriage by seven o'clock. Only a very few persons, and these of the humblest class, were visible in Grosvenor Square, as she was placed in the dormeuse, propped up by pillows; but even from the glance of these she shrank with a dread that it was painful to behold.

I alone accompanied her in the dormeuse; Lord and Lady Vernon preceding us in their travelling-carriage, and Augusta's femme de chambre and mine following us in a post-chaise. She was silent, and absorbed in meditation. While we passed through the street, and immediate environs of London, she kept her eyes closed, as if to shut out their view, though the blinds had been let down at her desire, as she betrays the most nervous susceptibility at encountering the gaze of a stranger. When we had traversed the environs, she opened her eyes, and said,—

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Now I can breathe more freely. I seem to have escaped from an atmosphere of humiliation and disgrace, where every eye mocked, and every tongue defamed me. Oh, Mary! you know not, and you never can know, the agonising consciousness of being the subject of general

and disgraceful animadversion; of seeing caricatures portraying vice in its most hideous forms, stamped with your likeness; bon mots and equivoques the most contemptuous coupled with your outraged name; while the good deplore, and the wicked triumph, in your presumed criminality. All this I have felt and writhed under, until my tortured imagination has conjured the belief that the overwhelming sense of shame which was preying on my soul, had fixed its burning brand on my brow.

How

how I longed to be transported to some distant region, where my name had never been heard-my disgrace never been related; where I could again meet the glance of human beings without being crimsoned by the blush of shame. I was proud, Mary, too proud;-how has that pride been humbled! Will not every modest woman accuse me of bringing dishonour on my sex? Will not every immodest one cite me as a companion in vice? Think of a

trial !"

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But your innocence will be proved, dearest."

Admitting this to be the result; through what a fearful ordeal does the virtue of a woman pass,-that virtue which should never be questioned,-when it is subjected to the odious, the defiling publicity of a judicial investigation! No! the burning ploughshare, over which the female suspected of want of chastity was condemned to walk barefooted, as a mean of detecting the justice of the imputation, was a merciful penalty compared to that of the searing-iron of consuming shame which the notoriety of a trial inflicts on a sensitive mind. Then, to watch the struggles, to conceal grief and wounded honour, of those who were once proud of you: to know that their love and pity for one deemed impure, expose their own reputations to censure-oh! all this once felt, never can be erased from the memory, and poisons every thought, destroys every earthly hope! From such misery there is but one refuge-the grave; but one hope the mercy of that God, who can distinguish between error and guilt, and can pardon her whom men condemn."

It is in vain, my dearest husband, that I endeavour to lead her to take a less sombre view of her position. Her womanly pride, and, above all, the extreme modesty peculiar to her character, have received wounds too deep, too deadly, ever to be healed; and, however her innocence may be proved, hers is not a nature to drag on a protracted life of fancied humiliation, or to submit to the capricious kindness of some, and the still cherished malignant doubts of others.

Could the young and fair of her own sex, who, unthinking of crime, recklessly expose themselves to its suspicion, behold this lovely and unhappy creature sinking into a premature grave as a refuge from shame, how would they tremble at even the approach of levity, or the semblance of impropriety of manner; and how carefully would they preserve that decorum which should ever be the outward and visible sign of the purity within!

The love of Augusta for her father and mother, demonstrated in a thousand ways, is the most touching sight I ever beheld. It seems as if the cords that unite their hearts are drawn more tightly now that they are so soon to be rent asunder for ever. But even this tender affection makes her more alive to the sense of the wound inflicted on their peace-by the stain affixed to her honour. Yes; it is one of the peculiarities of the heart of woman, that the blow which most afflicts her, is that which must wound the hearts of those dear to her.

In compliance with the wishes of Augusta, we have chosen a different route to the direct one to Vernon Hall; consequently, we are unknown at the inns where we stop; and this privacy is a great relief to her feelings.

"What a blessing to die at home!" she often murmurs; "with no prating London physicians to describe to their fashionable and idle valetudinarian all the symptoms of― a broken heart; no hireling domestics of a season to profane one's name at the adjacent alehouses; no newspapers to detail daily the little better,' and 'something