ow what shall I
say? You foresee it, do you not? Your cheek is flushed with
joy, and your breast heaves with triumph. Go, then, and
proclaim your marriage. Marry Edward; and when the priest says
at the altar, 'Who gives this woman to be married to this
man?' think of him who, 'loving you not wisely, but too well,'
at the price of his own jealous tortures, of his pride, and of
his conscience, opened the way before you. At the price of my
conscience I have done this; and now listen to me, Ellen,--I
will tell you how. After I had received your letter, and
reflected on its contents, till anxiety for you and for your
happiness superseded every selfish thought which passion and
jealousy awoke, I went to Bromley, where Mrs. Tracy took up
her abode again a few months ago. I had hardly had any
communication with her since my marriage; and our meeting, as
you may well imagine, was anything but cordial. When I opened
to her the subject of my visit, she gave way to a burst of
anger, in which she vented the long-compressed violence,
jealousy, and hatred of her soul. I shudder when I think how
often you have been on the brink of what we most have dreaded;
twice she had written to Mr. Middleton, and only kept back her
letters at the very moment of putting them into the post. She
has kept up, by means of her relations, and of her relations'
friends, a constant system of _espionnage_ upon me, and had
been worked up into a state of violent irritation, by
exaggerated reports of my neglect of Alice, and of my devotion
to you. Far from listening to me, or giving me the least hope
that she would yield to my entreaties, she pronounced the most
vehement denunciations against you, and vowed that nothing now
should prevent her from exposing you--the murderer of Julia,
the hateful rival of Alice. Forgive me, dearest Ellen, that my
hand can write such horrible words; but it is necessary that
you should know what that terrible woman, as you rightly call
her, is capable of saying and of doing, and also to account
for the line of conduct which I took in consequence. I
suddenly changed my tone, and said to her in the coldest and
most determined manner, 'Very well; I leave you to write your
letter--to ruin the whole existence of a person who I declare
to you is as innocent as yourself of the crime which you
impute to her,--to throw into agitation and despair my sister,
whom you profess to love,--and to break your promise to me in
the most shameful