d that Lady Emily and her daughter were also there. The day
for the wedding had been fixed, and the preparations were going rapidly
forward. Meanwhile--she didn't tell me, but I gathered it from things
she dropped--she was in almost daily correspondence with the young man.
I thought this a strange concomitant of his bridal arrangements; but
apparently, henceforth, they were bent on convincing each other that
the torch of virtue lighted their steps, and they couldn't convince
each other too much. She intimated to me that she had now effectually
persuaded him (always by letter), that he would fail terribly if he
should try to found his happiness on an injury done to another, and that
of course she could never be happy (in a union with him), with the
sight of his wretchedness before her. That a good deal of correspondence
should be required to elucidate this is perhaps after all not
remarkable. One day, when I was sitting with her (it was just before she
left town), she suddenly burst into tears. Before we parted I said to
her that there were several women in London I liked very much,--that was
common enough,--but for her I had a positive respect, and that was rare.
My respect continues still, and it sometimes makes me furious.

About the middle of January Ambrose Tester reappeared in town. He told
me he came to bid me good-by. He was going to be beheaded. It was no
use saying that old relations would be the same after a man was married;
they would be different, everything would be different. I had wanted him
to marry, and now I should see how I liked it He did n't mention that I
had also wanted him not to marry, and I was sure that if Lady Vandeleur
had become his wife, she would have been a much greater impediment to
our harmless friendship than Joscelind Bernardstone would ever be. It
took me but a short time to observe that he was in very much the same
condition as Lady Vandeleur. He was finding how sweet it is to renounce,
hand in hand with one we love. Upon him, too, the peace of the Lord had
descended. He spoke of his father's delight at the nuptials being so
near at hand; at the festivities that would take place in Dorsetshire
when he should bring home his bride. The only allusion he made to what
we had talked of the last time we were together was to exclaim suddenly,
"How can I tell you how easy she has made it? She is so sweet, so
noble. She really is a perfect creature!" I took for granted that he
was talking of