told that no person, excepting the physician appointed
by her family, was to be permitted to see the lady at the end of the
gallery, she opened her keen eyes still wider, and uttered a--"hem!"
before she enquired--"Why?" She was briefly told, in reply, that the
malady was hereditary, and the fits not occurring but at very long and
irregular intervals, she must be carefully watched; for the length of
these lucid periods only rendered her more mischievous, when any vexation
or caprice brought on the paroxysm of phrensy.

Had her master trusted her, it is probable that neither pity nor
curiosity would have made her swerve from the straight line of her
interest; for she had suffered too much in her intercourse with mankind,
not to determine to look for support, rather to humouring their passions,
than courting their approbation by the integrity of her conduct. A deadly
blight had met her at the very threshold of existence; and the
wretchedness of her mother seemed a heavy weight fastened on her innocent
neck, to drag her down to perdition. She could not heroically determine
to succour an unfortunate; but, offended at the bare supposition that she
could be deceived with the same ease as a common servant, she no longer
curbed her curiosity; and, though she never seriously fathomed her own
intentions, she would sit, every moment she could steal from observation,
listening to the tale, which Maria was eager to relate with all the
persuasive eloquence of grief.

It is so cheering to see a human face, even if little of the divinity of
virtue beam in it, that Maria anxiously expected the return of the
attendant, as of a gleam of light to break the gloom of idleness.
Indulged sorrow; she perceived, must blunt or sharpen the faculties to
the two opposite extremes; producing stupidity, the moping melancholy of
indolence; or the restless activity of a disturbed imagination. She sunk
into one state, after being fatigued by the other: till the want of
occupation became even more painful than the actual pressure or
apprehension of sorrow; and the confinement that froze her into a nook of
existence, with an unvaried prospect before her, the most insupportable
of evils. The lamp of life seemed to be spending itself to chase the
vapours of a dungeon which no art could dissipate.--And to what purpose
did she rally all her energy?--Was not the world a vast prison, and women
born slaves?

Though she failed immediately to rouse a lively sens