 | Randolph |  |
JOHN TO SARAH.
I have just returned from Molton's, and we have
agreed upon a time, when he will be as little occupied as
possible. He does not suspect my object, I am sure; but
I am determined, whatever be the peril, to bring him directly
to the point, on the subject of your letter. The interview
is to be this evening. He is darker and sterner than
ever; and, yesterday, when I called, for the first time,
since Juliet and he met in my presence, he refused to be
seen. But I saw her—his wife?—yea, his wife. She
was wasted away, almost to death; and, when I entered,
she started, as if the tread were hostile; nay, during the
whole of my visit, for I desired much to see Molton, unsocial
as he is--and was not deterred, until she went herself,
to get permission, and returned with a promise from
him, to see me in the evening—her eyes were glancing,
vividly, and continually, toward the door, the court-yard,
and the high road, as if something evil were at hand.—
She is a majestick creature;—and the tone of her voice,
went to my heart. We spoke of foreign parts, and she
manifested, at times, a remarkably familiar and apt acquaintance
with every thing of interest; at others, it was
less so, evidently from her confusion and anxiety. She
must be very young, yet—I should think not more than
eighteen; and, for an English woman, you know, that is
little better than childhood. The servant brought her a
as she read it; and the colour flew into her face, as she told
him, tearing it in pieces, and returning it, to bear it back
to the person from whom he brought it, with her compliments.
I wish that you could have seen her. She is
more sinned against than sinning; yet the fierce spirit of
her eyes; the quick movement of her beautiful lip, when
agitated; and the white lustre of her hands, when she
put aside her redundant black hair, somewhat angrily,
while she tore the billet—indicated a disposition compounded
of fiery and strange elements; one that I should
tremble to encounter, in its wrath. Farewell!—The
moment that I have done with Molton, I shall write you
the particulars.
A singular affair happened night before last at Jane's.
Somebody attempted to break into Juliet's room, but
was frightened away. A pistol was fired, and it was
then discovered to be a woman—some mad creature, we
suppose. Juliet was inconceivably alarmed, but it is all
over now.
is just received. I have no time to read it now—and
have put it aside, to be read and answered, to-night, after
my return from Molton's.
| Randolph | |