misrepresent our relative positions, have been sent
to Edward; and this letter, of which I inclose you a copy, is
the result. I will not attempt to make you understand what I
have suffered--what I suffer. I dare not see you; I dare not
receive a letter from you; and yet, before Edward's return, I
_must;_ for there is an oath which you once imposed upon me,
which must be cancelled--you _must_ absolve me from it, if you
do not wish to drive me to despair--to perjury on the one
hand, or to a life of hopeless misery on the other.

"Henry! you who have been my best friend, and my worst enemy,
have pity upon me. Do not condemn me to fresh remorse--to
further struggles--to eternal hypocrisy. Do not write to me
any sophistry on this subject; do not try to blind my eyes
again; to deceive me to my ruin. If you have the cruelty to
steel yourself against my prayers, against my earnest
supplications, then leave me to myself; and take with you the
consciousness that you have filled up the measure of your
iniquities, and heaped upon my head all the miseries which the
most savage hatred could devise.

"Would to God that I could find words to touch you! Would to
God that I could reach your heart! and carry to it the
conviction, that you would be happier yourself by giving way
to my entreaties, than by maintaining a tyranny which is as
criminal as it is cruel.

"By all that you hold sacred, hear me, Henry! In the name of
your sister--in the name of your child--hear me! As you would
not bring misery upon them, hear me! My whole soul is in this
prayer--the fate of my whole life is in its issue--have mercy
upon me, as you ever hope for mercy yourself.

"Yours,

"Ellen Middleton."

This was my letter, and day by day I watched and trembled each
time that the sound of the bell or a knock at the door roused
a hope that its answer might come. During that period I
received two short and hurried letters from Edward, dated from
the towns where he stopped for an hour or two on his way to
Hyeres. The solitude of my life became at last intolerable; I
began to feel an impetuous desire to change something in the
course of my days; to see some one, to speak to some one, and
yet I shrunk from the sight of a common acquaintance, or of a
commonplace friend. At last, one morning, a note was brought
to me, but the direction was written not by Henry but by
Alice. It only contained these words:--

"My dear Ellen,

"I wish to see you, and I be