my sweet friend, let me make you reparation—become independent; I will settle an annuity upon you; fly me—seek happiness elsewhere, and leave your unfortunate, your despairing lover to his fate."
"Do you taunt me, my Lord?" cried the angry fair; "or do you believe that money can replace the rights of which you have robbed me?—can you make me again a wife—a happy, a respected wife? Do this, my Lord, and you atone to me!"
The nobleman smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The lady yet more angrily repeated her question. The lover answered by an inuendo, which at once astonished and doubly enraged her. She eagerly demanded explanation; and his Lordship, who had gone farther than he intended, left the room. But his words had sunk deep into the breast of this unhappy woman, and she resolved to procure an elucidation. Agreeably to the policy which stripped the fabled traveller of his cloak, she laid aside the storm and preferred the sunshine: she watched a moment of tenderness, turned the opportunity to advantage, and, by little and little, she possessed herself of a secret which sickened her with shame, disgust, and dismay.
