the Dean she
always planted with her own hand a laurel or two against his
arrival. He showed her favourite seat, still called 'Vanessa's
bower'. Three or four trees and some laurels indicate the spot....
There were two seats and a rude table within the bower, the opening
of which commanded a view of the Liffey.... In this sequestered
spot, according to the old gardener's account, the Dean and Vanessa
used often to sit, with books and writing materials on the table
before them."--SCOTT'S _Swift_, vol. i, pp. 246-7. "... But Miss
Vanhomrigh, irritated at the situation in which she found herself,
determined on bringing to a crisis those expectations of a union
with the object of her affections--to the hope of which she had clung
amid every vicissitude of his conduct towards her. The most probable
bar was his undefined connexion with Mrs. Johnson, which, as it must
have been perfectly known to her, had, doubtless, long elicited her
secret jealousy, although only a single hint to that purpose is to
be found in their correspondence, and that so early as 1713, when
she writes to him--then in Ireland--'If you are very happy, it is
ill-natured of you not to tell me so, _except 'tis what is
inconsistent with mine_.' Her silence and patience under this state
of uncertainty for no less than eight years, must have been partly
owing to her awe for Swift, and partly, perhaps, to the weak state
of her rival's health, which, from year to year, seemed to announce
speedy dissolution. At length, however, Vanessa's impatience
prevailed, and she ventured on the decisive step of writing to Mrs.
Johnson herself, requesting to know the nature of that connexion.
Stella, in reply, informed her of her marriage with the Dean; and
full of the highest resentment against Swift for having given
another female such a right in him as Miss Vanhomrigh's inquiries
implied, she sent to him her rival's letter of interrogatories, and,
without seeing him, or awaiting his reply, retired to the house of
Mr. Ford, near Dublin. Every reader knows the consequence. Swift, in
one of those paroxysms of fury to which he was liable, both from
temper and disease, rode instantly to Marley Abbey. As he entered
the apartment, the sternness of his countenance, which was
p