er of the mansion--I saw him--and perceived
that I was buried alive.--

"Such, my child, are the events of thy mother's life to this dreadful
moment--Should she ever escape from the fangs of her enemies, she will
add the secrets of her prison-house--and--"

Some lines were here crossed out, and the memoirs broke off abruptly with
the names of Jemima and Darnford.

APPENDIX.

[ADVERTISEMENT.

THE performance, with a fragment of which the reader has now been
presented, was designed to consist of three parts. The preceding sheets
were considered as constituting one of those parts. Those persons who in
the perusal of the chapters, already written and in some degree finished
by the author, have felt their hearts awakened, and their curiosity
excited as to the sequel of the story, will, of course, gladly accept
even of the broken paragraphs and half-finished sentences, which have
been found committed to paper, as materials for the remainder. The
fastidious and cold-hearted critic may perhaps feel himself repelled by
the incoherent form in which they are presented. But an inquisitive
temper willingly accepts the most imperfect and mutilated information,
where better is not to be had: and readers, who in any degree resemble
the author in her quick apprehension of sentiment, and of the pleasures
and pains of imagination, will, I believe, find gratification, in
contemplating sketches, which were designed in a short time to have
received the finishing touches of her genius; but which must now for ever
remain a mark to record the triumphs of mortality, over schemes of
usefulness, and projects of public interest.]

CHAP. XV.

DARNFORD returned the memoirs to Maria, with a most affectionate letter,
in which he reasoned on "the absurdity of the laws respecting matrimony,
which, till divorces could be more easily obtained, was," he declared,
"the most insufferable bondage. Ties of this nature could not bind minds
governed by superior principles; and such beings were privileged to act
above the dictates of laws they had no voice in framing, if they had
sufficient strength of mind to endure the natural consequence. In her
case, to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself.
Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to
her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through
mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he
disdained to