to have no design of availing himself of the influence
of either to promote his own views.

"After a prefatory conversation,--my blood (I thought it had been cooler)
flushed over my whole countenance as he spoke--he alluded to my
situation. He desired me to reflect--'and act like a prudent woman, as
the best proof of my superior understanding; for he must own I had sense,
did I know how to use it. I was not,' he laid a stress on his words,
'without my passions; and a husband was a convenient cloke.--He was
liberal in his way of thinking; and why might not we, like many other
married people, who were above vulgar prejudices, tacitly consent to let
each other follow their own inclination?--He meant nothing more, in the
letter I made the ground of complaint; and the pleasure which I seemed to
take in Mr. S.'s company, led him to conclude, that he was not
disagreeable to me.'

"A clerk brought in the letters of the day, and I, as I often did, while
he was discussing subjects of business, went to the _piano forte_, and
began to play a favourite air to restore myself, as it were, to nature,
and drive the sophisticated sentiments I had just been obliged to listen
to, out of my soul.

"They had excited sensations similar to those I have felt, in viewing the
squalid inhabitants of some of the lanes and back streets of the
metropolis, mortified at being compelled to consider them as my
fellow-creatures, as if an ape had claimed kindred with me. Or, as when
surrounded by a mephitical fog, I have wished to have a volley of cannon
fired, to clear the incumbered atmosphere, and give me room to breathe
and move.

"My spirits were all in arms, and I played a kind of extemporary prelude.
The cadence was probably wild and impassioned, while, lost in thought, I
made the sounds a kind of echo to my train of thinking.

"Pausing for a moment, I met Mr. Venables' eyes. He was observing me with
an air of conceited satisfaction, as much as to say--'My last insinuation
has done the business--she begins to know her own interest.' Then
gathering up his letters, he said, 'That he hoped he should hear no more
romantic stuff, well enough in a miss just come from boarding school;'
and went, as was his custom, to the counting-house. I still continued
playing; and, turning to a sprightly lesson, I executed it with uncommon
vivacity. I heard footsteps approach the door, and was soon convinced
that Mr. Venables was listening; the consciousness only