only returned by Lord Byron on their separation,
but generously doubled.

And now let us hasten to add that although Lord Byron was not in love
with Miss Milbank, he had no dislike to her person, for she was rather
pretty and pleasing in appearance. Her reputation for moral and
intellectual qualities, standing on such a high pedestal, Lord Byron
naturally conceived that esteem might well suffice to replace
tenderness. It is certain that, if she had lent herself to it more, and
if circumstances had only been endurable, their union might have
presented the same character common to most aristocratic couples in
England, and that even Lord Byron might have been able to act from
virtue in default of feeling; but that little requisite for him was
wholly wanting.

His celebrated and touching "Farewell" might be brought up as an
objection to what we have just advanced. It might be said that the word
_sincere_ is a proof of love, and _insincere_ a proof of _falsehood_.
Lastly, that in all cases there was a want of delicacy and refinement in
thus confiding his domestic troubles to the public. Well, all that would
be ill-founded, unjust, and contrary to truth. This is the truth of the
matter. Lord Byron had just been informed that Lady Byron, having sent
off by post the letter wherein she confirmed all that her father, Sir
Ralph, had written, namely, her resolution of not returning to the
conjugal roof, had afterward caused this letter to be sought for, and on
its being restored, had given way to almost mad demonstrations of joy.
Could he see aught else in this account save a certainty of the evil
influences weighing on her, and making her act in contradiction to her
real sentiments? He pitied her then as a victim, thought of all the
virtues _said_ to crown her, the illusive belief in which he was far
then from having lost; he forgot the wrongs she had inflicted on
him--the spying she had kept up around him--the calumnies spread against
him--the use she had made of the letters subtracted from his desk. Yes,
all was forgotten by his generous heart; and, according to custom, he
even went so far as to accuse himself--to see in the victim only his
wife, the mother of his little Ada! Under this excitement he was walking
about at night in his solitary apartments, and suddenly chanced to
perceive in some corner different things that had belonged to Lady
Byron--dresses and other articles of attire. It is well known how much
the sight of