University of Virginia Library

September 2.—

Mr. Arnold staid long enough in his dressing-room after he came in last night, to give me time to go to-bed before he came up stairs. Not a word passed between us: I slept not the whole night; whether he did or not I cannot tell. He asked me this morning, when I rose, how I did: I told him in great pain. My ancle was prodigiously swelled, and turned quite black, for I

had neglected it last night. He said, you had better let a surgeon see it, and went carelessly out of the room. How new is unkindness to me, my friend! you know I have not been used to it. Mr. Arnold adds cruelty to—but let it be so; far be reproaches or complaints from my lips; to you only, my second self, shall I utter them; to you I am bound by solemn promise, and reciprocal confidence, to disclose the inmost secrets of my soul, and with you they are as safe as in my own breast.—

I am once more composed, and determined on my behaviour. I have not a doubt remaining of Mr. Arnold's infidelity; but let me not aggravate my own griefs, nor to a vicious world justify my husband's conduct, by bringing any reproach on my own. The silent sufferings of the injured must, to a mind not ungenerous, be a sharper rebuke than it is in the power of language to inflict.

But this is not all: I must endeavour, if possible, to skreen Mr. Arnold from

censure. I hope his own imprudence may not render these endeavours ineffectual. I am resolved not to drop my acquaintance with Mrs. Gerrarde. While we continue upon a footing of seeming intimacy, the frequent visits, which I am sure Mr. Arnold makes at her house, will be less taken notice of.

How Sir George would triumph at the knowledge of Mr. Arnold's deviating from virtue! How my poor mother would be amazed and afflicted! But I will, as far lies in my power, disappoint the malice of my stars; my mother shall have no cause to grieve, nor my brother to rejoice; the secret shall die with me in my own bosom, and I will wait patiently till the hand of time applies a remedy to my grief.—Mrs. Gerrarde sent a message to inquire how I did. Conscious woman! she would not come herself, though she knew not I had discovered her.

My dear good lady V— hurried to see me the instant she had breakfasted: Mr. Faulkland had told her of my disaster,

and her tenderness soothed and comforted me much. She sat by my bedside two hours, and her discourse alleviated the pain both of my mind and body; but now she has left me, I must again recur to the subject that wrings my heart. Mr. Arnold is enslaved to one of the most artful of her sex. I look upon his attachment to be the more dangerous, as I believe it is the first of the kind he ever had; and no woman was ever more formed to please and to deceive, than she who now holds him in her chains. Into what hands am I fallen! Mrs. Gerrarde must have heard my story, and by the hint I heard her drop, what cruel misrepresentations may she have made to Mr. Arnold! Mr. Faulkland she can have no enmity to; but me she certainly hates, for she has injured me.

'Tis noon: I have not seen Mr. Arnold since morning; he has been abroad ever since he rose; Good God! is this the life I am condemned to lead?

A new scene of affliction opened to me: surely my fate is drawing towards a crisis.

Mr. Arnold has just left me. What a conversation have we had!

After entering my room, he walked about for some minutes without speaking; at last stopping short, and fixing his eyes upon me, How long have you, said he, been acquainted with Mr. Faulkland? I told him my acquaintance began with him some months before I was married. He was once your lover I am informed. He was, and a treaty of marriage was concluded on between us. You would have been happier, perhaps, madam, if it had taken place. I do not think so Mr. Arnold; you have no reason to suppose I do. I had a very great objection to Mr. Faulkland, and obeyed my mother willingly, when she forbid me to see him. I ask not what that object was, said he; but I suppose, madam, you will without reluctance obey me, If I make the same request to you. Most chearfully;you cannot make a request with which I should more readily comply. But let me beseech you, Mr. Arnold, to tell me what part of my behaviour has given you cause to think such

a prohibition necessary? I do not say, answered Mr. Arnold, that I have any suspicion of your virtue; but your acquiescence in this particular is necessary to my peace and your own honour. A lady's being married does not cut off the hopes of a gay man. You give me your promise that you will not see him any more. I do, said I; I will give up lady V—, whose acquaintance I so much esteem: I will go no more to her house while Mr. Faulkland continues there; and I know of no other family, where I visit, that he is acquainted with.

My pride would not suffer me to inquire where he had got this information: I already knew it too well; and fearing he would rather descend to an untruth than tell me his author, I declined any farther questions. He seemed satisfied with my promise, but quickly left me, as if the whole end of his visit to me was accomplished in having obtained it.