name—and to publish the rumors which such prying may give rise to, seems to me quite indefensible, still mere so to state these rumors as ascertained truths. I am Sir, yours, etc., George Eliot."
This very gentleman-like letter carried conviction to most minds, although there were still a few who continued to place their faith in Liggins. Gradually, however, it came to be known in literary circles, and later to the public, that George Eliot was no other than Mrs. Lewes, formerly Mary Anne Evans.
Most readers are aware that the circumstances attending the marriage of this gifted lady to Mr. Lewes were peculiar. Miss Evans, as I have been told by one of her neighbors, lived for some years within a short distance of the house of Mr. Lewes, and was thus drawn into an intimacy with his family. She became, of necessity, a confidante of its fatal secret. His wife had been false to him. She had left his house, and had lived for some time in dishonorable relations with another. She had returned to him penitent, as he believed; he had forgiven her, and she had resumed her place at the head of his household, and her duties as the mother of his children. During this interval, Miss Evans became warmly attached to the children of the house, who were very young, and often needed the tender care and aid which mothers alone usually know how to render, but which in this instance the mother not unfrequently left to another to bestow. More than once, I have been credibly assured, when their mother was absent from her home in quest of pleasure, her duties were performed by Miss Evans, hastily summoned for the purpose.
Time passed. Late one afternoon, Miss Evans was sent for again, and, on reaching the house, she learned that Mrs. Lewes had once more abandoned her home, her children, her duties, and had rejoined her paramour.
