, at a contested election, to represent the
borough of Warwick, in which county lay the bulk of his estate. After
the election was over, Lady Kyte, by way of recompensing a zealous
partisan of her husband, took an innkeeper's daughter, Molly Jones,
for her maid; "a tall, genteel girl, with a fine complexion, and
seemingly very modest and innocent." But before many months had
elapsed, Sir William was attracted by the girl, and, eventually,
became so infatuated by her charms, that, casting aside all restraints
of shame or fear, he agreed to a separation between his wife and
himself. Accordingly, Sir William left Lady Kyte, with the two younger
children, in possession of the mansion-house in Warwickshire, and
retired with his mistress and his two eldest sons to a farmhouse on
the Cotswold hills. Charmed with the situation, he was soon tempted to
build a handsome house here, to which were added two large
side-fronts, for no better reason than that Molly Jones, one day,
happened to say, "What is a Kite without wings." But the expense of
completing this establishment, amounting to at least L10,000, soon
involved Sir William in financial difficulties, which caused him to
drown his worries in drink.

At this juncture, Molly Jones, forgetting her own past, was
injudicious enough to engage a fresh coloured country girl--who was
scarcely twenty--as dairymaid, for whom Sir William quickly conceived
an amorous regard. Actuated by jealousy or disgust, Molly Jones
threatened to leave Sir William, a resolution which she soon carried
out, retiring to Cambden, a neighbouring market town, where she was
reduced to keep a small sewing school as a means of livelihood.
Although left to carry on his intrigue undisturbed, Sir William soon
became a victim to gloomy reflections, feeling at times that he had
not only cruelly wronged a good wife, but had been deserted by the
very woman for whose sake he had brought this trouble and disgrace
upon his family. Tormented by these conflicting passions, he
occasionally worked himself up into such a state of frenzy that even
his new favourite was terrified, and had run away. It was when almost
maddened with the thought of his evil past that he formed that fatal
resolve which was a hideous ending to "the dreadful consequence of a
licentious passion not checked in its infancy." One October evening,
as a housemaid was on the stairs, suddenly "the lobby was all in a
cloud of smoke." She gave the alarm, and o