are insensible. Avondale alone feels as I do; but alas! it is no longer for me. Were I dead, what difference would it make to any one? I am the object of momentary amusement or censure to thousands; but, of love, to none. I am as a child, as a mistress to my husband; but never his friend, his companion. Oh for a heart's friend, in whom I could confide every thought and feeling; who would share and sympathize with my joy or sorrow; to whom I could say, "you love me—you require my presence;" and for whom in return I would give up every other enjoyment. Such friend was once Lord Avondale. By what means have I lost him?
Often when in tears she thus expressed herself. Her husband would suddenly enter; laugh with her without penetrating her feelings; or, deeply interested in the cares of business, seek her only as a momentary solace and amusement. Such, however, he seldom now found her;
