s I
could get something more out of him then. At all events, I would not
write to her now, while she was with him and her aunt, who doubtless
would be still more hostile to my presumptuous aspirations than himself.
When she was returned to the silence and solitude of her own home, it
would be my fittest opportunity.

When Lawrence came, however, he was as reserved as ever on the subject of
my keen anxiety. He told me that his sister had derived considerable
benefit from her stay at F-- that her son was quite well, and--alas! that
both of them were gone, with Mrs. Maxwell, back to Staningley, and there
they stayed at least three months. But instead of boring you with my
chagrin, my expectations and disappointments, my fluctuations of dull
despondency and flickering hope, my varying resolutions, now to drop it,
and now to persevere--now to make a bold push, and now to let things pass
and patiently abide my time,--I will employ myself in settling the
business of one or two of the characters introduced in the course of this
narrative, whom I may not have occasion to mention again.

Some time before Mr. Huntingdon's death Lady Lowborough eloped with
another gallant to the Continent, where, having lived a while in reckless
gaiety and dissipation, they quarrelled and parted. She went dashing on
for a season, but years came and money went: she sunk, at length, in
difficulty and debt, disgrace and misery; and died at last, as I have
heard, in penury, neglect, and utter wretchedness. But this might be
only a report: she may be living yet for anything I or any of her
relatives or former acquaintances can tell; for they have all lost sight
of her long years ago, and would as thoroughly forget her if they could.
Her husband, however, upon this second misdemeanour, immediately sought
and obtained a divorce, and, not long after, married again. It was well
he did, for Lord Lowborough, morose and moody as he seemed, was not the
man for a bachelor's life. No public interests, no ambitious projects,
or active pursuits,--or ties of friendship even (if he had had any
friends), could compensate to him for the absence of domestic comforts
and endearments. He had a son and a nominal daughter, it is true, but
they too painfully reminded him of their mother, and the unfortunate
little Annabella was a source of perpetual bitterness to his soul. He
had obliged himself to treat her with paternal kindness: he had forced
himself not to hate