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CHAPTER XLIV.

Certain we have no reason, nor that soul
Created of that pureness books persuade us:
We understand not, sure, nor feel that sweetness
That men call virtue's chain, to link our actions.
Our imperfections form and flatter us;

A will to rash and rude things is our reason,
And that we glory in that makes us guilty.

MASSINGER.

JEANNETTE explained to her husband, that her appearing in the Park with Mrs. Grant was wholly unpremeditated and unavoidable. An interdict was laid on such actions for the future; and thus the matter rested, till Bathurst was obliged to leave town. The business that compelled him to do so was urgent, but only required a few days' absence from home. Still it was the first time he and Jeannette had been separated, and they both felt it as a trial and as an evil. Their parting was more affectionate and sorrowful than seemned warranted by the occasion. Jeannette made herself this remark to Lindsay, smiling through her tears in order to lessen his regret ;--it rather perhaps helped to increase it; and Jeannette was much affected by the anxiety, tenderness, and grief with which he took leave of her. She was however a little hurt that his last words should be --"Oblige me, Jeannette, by holding no communication with Mrs. Grant until my return." He even retraced his steps a few moments after he had quitted her, to reiterate this request.

Jeannette was disappointed. While she listened to his returning footsteps, she expected that he was coming back to take another last leave of herself or his child :-as has been said, she was disappointed. She had been thinking only of him :-he, it was proved, was not solely occupied by her.

She asked no questions; and Lindsay, after he had left her, when he pondered on her incuriousness, wrongfully imagined that she was in the confidence of Mrs. Grant. He gave her credit for a truer knowledge of circumstances than

he himself possessed; and the supposition was displeasing to him.

In the mean time, Jeannette, as she sat caressing her little girl, marvelled greatly what could have given rise to Lindsay's command; for it was literally a command, although not so called. She wondered how or where the matter would end, and greatly feared that she might be placed, ere long, in a difficult position. She had a vague apprehension that she might soon be called upon either to abandon her friend, or disobey her husband.

To avoid, if possible, so painful a dilemma, she gave a general order of "Not at home," until Bathurst's return. Her father and Matilda were, of course, exceptions, and they were both with her when Mrs. Grant's carriage drove the third time, in one day, from her door. Jeannette was alarmed by this perseverance, and with difficulty overcame her inclination to go instantly to her friend. She wrote by that night's post to Lindsay, and mentioned the three visits of Mrs. Grant, and her nonadmission: to this she added, "I wish you were here, for I am full of fears. I have a presentiment, my dear Lindsay, that notwitstanding the pain it would be to me to act contrary to your wishes, I must, if I remain in town, see Mrs. Grant."

Lindsay's reply was immediate: four days, however, intervened between the period of Jeannette's writing and her receiving it. Lindsay wrote briefly, but firmly, and on only one subject.

"No: on no account, my dearest Jeannette, must you see or write to Mrs. Grant :-my worst fears with regard to her have been realized :--the name of my wife must not be mingled in any way with hers :-it is painful enough to me to think that you have even been seen together :-you will not after this, I am sure, even think of holding any communication with this person, or I would prohibit your doing so, on pain of the forfeiture of my love."

Matilda was with Jeannette on the receipt of this letter. It fell from Jeannette's hands as she exclaimed, "It is too late! what am I to do?"

Jeannette had spent the whole of the two preceding days with Mrs. Grant, and had promised to be with her a part of the very morning on which the prohibition was so strongly renewed. She knew that she had not weakly yielded to the

desire of her friend to see her--she knew that the commiseration she had given was not in itself condemnable; but she knew that her husband was fully justified in the command he had laid on her, and she felt afraid that she should not be able to convince him of her motives. After all that had passed, her conduct, she feared, bore the appearance of selfwill; yet she had been appealed to by a human being, in an extremity of sorrow of which before she had no conception. Of the grief of guilt she knew nothing; this had been first unveiled to her in a letter from Mrs. Grant, who, with the resistless eloquence of misery, had implored her to see her, if but for one short hour. Jeannette meant to limit herself to that time; but when once the cry of guilty, lonely, and unpitied wretchedness had reached her heart, her previous intentions were of no avail. One interview brought on a second, and that second a third. Jeannette so strongly felt it to be impossible to act otherwise than she had acted, that she thought there could be no difficulty in representing it to be so.

When however she received her husband's letter, and tried to frame a defence that should wholly disarm his displeasure, she found she could not.

Matilda, who witnessed her perplexity, and who understood Lindsay Bathurst's character on one point better than Jeannette, advised her, if possible, to avoid mentioning Mrs. Grant's name.

"Lindsay," she said, "may not inquire directly of you, Jeannette, what communication you have had with this unhappy woman: if he should not, I do most strenuously advise you not to tell him that you have seen her."

"What! deceive Lindsay! No, Matilda; I have disobeyed, but never, never will I deceive him."

Jeannette then ordered her carriage to the door, and to Matilda's utter astonishment, when they both entered it, she heard the order given, "To Mrs. Grant's."

"Oh, Jeannette, let me beg of you not to do this!"

"It is painful to me beyond words, my dear Matilda, but this last visit is indispensable. It shall, it must be the last; but I could not omit this final duty to the woman I once called friend, and be happy-"

And Jeannette's full heart gave way. She felt she was going to inflict pain;-she felt too that she could not avert

Lindsay's displeasure. The idea of his return was mingled with a dread she had never before known, and for which she could not account.

"I ought not," she said, "to suffer myself to be thus overcome Lindsay is too generous to condemn me unheard; and if once he hears my motives, he must, I think, approve, as well as forgive."

To

Although Matilda did not think this, still she did not contradict her sister. Her great object, now that she could not prevent the visit Jeannette had determined to pay, was to keep her to her purpose of making it one of adieu. this end she proffered her own services in any, in every way to Mrs. Grant. "Say but farewell yourself, Jeannette, and impose whatever duties you please on me whatever you may promise, I will gladly perform."

"Kind Matilda !" and Jeannette felt and acknowledged how greatly the difficulty of her undertaking was lessened by this generous proposal.

But it was still difficult. She had to resist tears, prayers, passionate and abject entreaties—she had to quench the last ray of this world's hope in one who still trusted in her with undoubting confidence. It almost broke her heart to be so, but she was firm. "If Lindsay will permit me, and on my knees I will beg him to do so, I will visit you daily—but without his permission I may not――cannot.”

"Then leave me, cruel, selfish Jeannette-for Bathurst will never permit it, and that you know."

Jeannette could not contradict this--and she tore herself away with the feelings of a criminal. She began to think that she ought to have braved Lindsay's anger, and had no approval from her own heart for the fulfilment of the harsh duty she had performed. Matilda's approbation of what they had done was distasteful to her. "No, no, Matilda! I do not deserve praise-she called me selfish, and cruel, and I have been both. Oh! Lindsay, what have I this day done to please you!"

And her fear of her husband's displeasure gradually decreased, as she became less and less satisfied with the part she had acted to avert it. In this frame of mind she drove to her home; and, as she habitually did, on approaching it, glanced towards her nursery in the hope of beholding her child. The cherub face of her little Matilda was not to be VOL. I.-14

seen; but as she was withdrawing her eyes in disappointment, she beheld Bathurst watching her arrival from the library.

He had unfortunately arrived during her absence, and to his impatient inquiries respecting her, had heard from his servants of the probability of her being at Mrs. Grant's.

He

This suggestion was in itself sufficient to displease him, but it was considerably aggravated by circumstances. found his letter open, and on Jeannette's writing-table. There could therefore be no doubt of its having been received. The morning's newspaper lay beside it, and his attention was caught by the following lines under the head of "Masquerade verses," and said to have been distributed at a party the preceding week, at which he knew Jeannette had been present.

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"In vain her garb-that voice, that air,
Too well the B's name declare.
Ah! pity that a mother's dower,
While gazing on so sweet a flower,
Should make us think in such an hour,
That flowers are frail as well as fair!"

The perusal of these lines was one of those trifles, that, though light as air,' weigh down the spirit of man. Lindsay's mind was but too favourable to an influence of this nature. To know that an evil must be borne does not always increase our philosophy or improve our temper. These obnoxious verses would, he knew, be read and understood by all they had possibly already amused thousands. But they were unanswerable, and must be silently endured,—not because they were beneath, but beyond notice. He was annoyed in an extreme degree by a union of vexations; and, as is no uncommon case, the irritability, occasioned by a combination of causes, was ascribed wholly to the one within reach :--that one was Jeannette But their interview is reserved for the following chapter.

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