o settle Ottilie's
departure, for which she had already privately made all preparations,
for the next day.

Edward shuddered--he thought he was betrayed. His wife's affectionate
speech he fancied was an artfully contrived trick to separate him for
ever from his happiness. He appeared to leave the thing entirely to her;
but in his heart his resolution was already taken. To gain time to
breathe, to put off the immediate intolerable misery of Ottilie's being
sent away, he determined to leave his house. He told Charlotte he was
going; but he had blinded her to his real reason, by telling her that he
would not be present at Ottilie's departure; indeed, that, from that
moment, he would see her no more. Charlotte, who believed that she had
gained her point, approved most cordially. He ordered his horse, gave
his valet the necessary directions what to pack up, and where he should
follow him; and then, on the point of departure, he sat down and wrote:

"EDWARD TO CHARLOTTE

"The misfortune, my love, which has befallen us, may or may not admit of
remedy; only this I feel, that if I am not at once to be driven to
despair, I must find some means of delay for myself, and for all of us.
In making myself the sacrifice, I have a right to make a request. I am
leaving my home, and I return to it only under happier and more peaceful
auspices. While I am away, you keep possession of it--_but with
Ottilie_. I choose to know that she is with you, and not among
strangers. Take care of her; treat her as you have treated her--only
more lovingly, more kindly, more tenderly! I promise that I will not
attempt any secret intercourse with her. Leave me, as long a time as you
please, without knowing anything about you. I will not allow myself to
be anxious--nor need you be uneasy about me: only, with all my heart and
soul, I beseech you, make no attempt to send Ottilie away, or to
introduce her into any other situation. Beyond the circle of the castle
and the park, placed in the hands of strangers, she belongs to me, and I
will take possession of her! If you have any regard for my affection,
for my wishes, for my sufferings, you will leave me alone to my madness;
and if any hope of recovery from it should ever hereafter offer itself
to me, I will not resist."

Thus last sentence ran off his pen--not out of his heart. Even when he
saw it upon the paper, he began bitterly to weep. That he, under any
circumstances, should renounce the happiness--eve