egree of satisfaction. There, surrounded by
magnificent scenery, and safe from intrusion, I intended to drag out
the remainder of my dreary years; but poor Elsie grew so restless, so
homesick, so impatient to visit the graves of her household band, that I
finally allowed myself to be persuaded into returning to my native land.
Robert preceded us, and purchased this secluded spot, which I had
stipulated must be upon the sea-shore and secure from all intrusion.
Avoiding New York, I came reluctantly to Boston, thence to 'Solitude,'
without seeing or hearing of any whom I had once known. When I was
twenty-one, I transferred to Mr. Carlyle the sum of thirty thousand
dollars, as a final settlement; but my agent scrupulously obeyed my
instructions, and no human being, save himself, is aware of my place
of residence or the name under which I am sheltered. Strenuous
efforts have been made by Mr. Carlyle to unearth his wretched dupe,
but since I left England, nearly eight years ago, he has been unable
to discover any trace of my location. From time to time I received
bills, contracted by him, and paid by my lawyer after I left New York;
and in my escritoire are two accounts of jewellers, where I find
charged the flashing ring and costly diamond cross, which I refused
to retain but for which I paid, after my separation. Prone to
dissipation, Mr. Carlyle plunged into excesses that would have
squandered royal portions, and my agent writes that his eagerness to
ascertain where I am residing has recently increased, in consequence of
his pecuniary necessities, although the terms of our separation deprive
him of every shadow of claim upon me or my purse. Such, Dr. Grey, is
the shattered idol of my girlish adoration,--such the divinity of dust
upon which I spent the treasures of my love and trust. Gray-haired,
gray-hearted, mocked, and maddened in the dawn of my confiding
womanhood, nominally a wife, but in reality a nameless waif, shut
out from happiness, and pitied as a maniac,--such, is that most
desolate and isolated woman, whom, as Agla Gerome, you have known as
the mistress of this lonely place. As for my name, I sometimes wonder
whether in the last great gathering in the court of Heaven, my own
mother will know what to call her unbaptized child,--whether the sins
charged against me will be read out as those of Vashti, or Evelyn,
or Agla. Elsie persistently clung to Vashti, and verily there seems
a grim fitness in her selection,--a