d morning after Edward's departure a letter was
brought to me. The direction was in his handwriting, and a
mist obscured my sight. I pressed it to my heart, and closed
my eyes for an instant. _Now_, I should know all. _Now_, I
should know my sentence. Alice's rival--Henry's accomplice--I
stood condemned by my own heart; and as I broke the seal of
Edward's letter, I felt as if I should read my death-warrant.

EDWARD'S LETTER.

"CALAIS, _Saturday_.

"This is the first time I have written to you since our
marriage. This is better for yourself and for me, and makes it
easier to write now in the way in which henceforward we must
act and feel towards each other. I will not upbraid you. God
has visited upon me the sin of my heart, and I pray to Him
that yours may never find you out. To save you from the last
step in guilt, and all its misery, is now my only object.

"I shall return to you as soon as the sacred duty I am now
engaged in is fulfilled; I shall return to you, for I wish
your reputation to be preserved. The only request I make is,
that you will never again attempt to act the part which you
have hitherto so ably performed. I shall expect from you
respect and submission, for without them, how can I save you?
but one of those looks--one of those words which once made my
happiness, would _now_ drive me from you for ever. Attempt no
defence; offer no explanations; if you repent, mourn over the
past in silence, and silently resign yourself, as I do, to the
life which lies before us. Write to me, but do not answer this
letter. That you may not be tempted to do so, I will go
through the painful task of explaining to you the manner in
which my eyes have been opened to what I might have seen long
ago, had it not been for the deep hypocrisy of your life, and
of your character. I said I would not upbraid you; but the
simple mention of facts must become the most cutting reproach.
When I look back to the last two years, and remember the many
proofs I have had of your secret and powerful interest in
Henry's fate, and of the tenacity with which you have clung to
his society, I ask myself how you could ever have deceived me
as you have done? But when I recollect what you have
professed, the way in which you have acted, all that you have
said to me, I almost doubt the evidence of my senses.

"Vague but painful doubts had latterly shot across me; and had
I believed it to be in human nature, or in woman's power, to
feign