manded by young
Englishmen of their ladies; and it pacified him with the belief that
she was now at rest, the disturbed history of their father and mother
at rest as well; his conscience in relation to the marriage likewise at
rest. Chillon had a wife. Her writing of the welcome to poverty stirred
his knowledge of his wife's nature. Carinthia might bear it and harden
to flint; Henrietta was a butterfly for the golden rays. His thoughts,
all his energies, were bent on the making of money to supply her need
for the pleasure she flew in--a butterfly's grub without it. Accurately
so did the husband and lover read his wife--adoring her the more.

Her letter's embracing close was costly to them. It hurried him to
the compromise of a debateable business, and he fell into the Austrian
Government's terms for the payment of the inheritance from his father;
calculating that--his sister's share deducted-money would be in hand to
pay pressing debts and enable Henrietta to live unworried by cares
until he should have squeezed debts, long due and increasing, out of the
miserly old lord, his uncle. A prospect of supplies for twelve months,
counting the hack and carriage Henrietta had always been used to,
seemed about as far as it was required to look by the husband hastening
homeward to his wife's call. Her letter was a call in the night.
Besides, there were his yet untried Inventions. The new gunpowder
testing at Croridge promised to provide Henrietta with many of the
luxuries she could have had, and had abandoned for his sake. The new
blasting powder and a destructive shell might build her the palace she
deserved. His uncle was, no doubt, his partner. If, however, the profits
were divided, sufficient wealth was assured. But his uncle remained a
dubious image. The husband and lover could enfold no positive prospect
to suit his wife's tastes beyond the twelve months.

We have Dame Gossip upon us. --One minute let mention be of the
excitement over Protestant England when that rumour disseminated,
telling of her wealthiest nobleman's visit to a monastery, up in the
peaks and snows; and of his dwelling among the monks, and assisting in
all their services day and night, hymning and chanting, uttering not one
word for one whole week: his Papistical friend, Lord Feltre, with him,
of course, after Jesuit arts had allured him to that place of torrents
and lightnings and canticles and demon echoes, all as though expressly
contrived for the hor