she wrote to Everina it seems as if both had been relying upon Mary for
the realization of certain "goodly prospects." She returned Mary's letter
without a word, but to Everina she wrote;--

"I have enclosed this famous letter to the author of the 'Rights of
Women,' without any reflection. She shall never hear from _Poor
Bess_ again. Remember, I am fixed as my misery, and nothing can
change my present plan. This letter has so strangely agitated me
that I know not what I say, but this I feel and know, that if you
value my existence you will comply with my requisition [that is, to
find her a situation in Ireland where she, Everina, then was], for
I am positive I will never torture our amiable friend in Charlotte
Street. Is not this a good spring, my dear girl? At least poor Bess
can say it is a fruitful one. Alas, poor Bess!"

It seemed to be Mary's fate to prove the truth of the saying, that if to
him that hath, it shall be given, so also from him that hath not, shall
it be taken away. Just as she realized that Imlay's love was lost
forever, Eliza's cruel, silent answer to her letter came to tell her it
would be useless to turn to her sisters for sympathy. They failed to do
justice to her heart, but she bore them no resentment. In one of her last
letters to Imlay, she reminds him that when she went to Sweden she had
asked him to attend to the wants of her father and sisters, a request
which he had ignored. The anger she excited in them, however, was never
entirely appeased, and from that time until her death, she heard but
little of them, and saw still less.

But, though deserted by those nearest to her, her friends rallied round
her. She was joyfully re-welcomed to the literary society which she had
before frequented. She was not treated as an outcast, because people
resolutely refused to believe the truth about her connection with Imlay.
She was far from encouraging them in this. Godwin says in her desire to
be honest she went so far as to explain the true state of the case to a
man whom she knew to be the most inveterate tale-bearer in London, and
who would be sure to repeat what she told him. But it was of no avail.
Her personal attractions and cleverness predisposed friends in her favor.
In order to retain her society and also to silence any scruples that
might arise, they held her to be an injured wife, as indeed she really
was, and not a deserted mistress. A few