consolations of intellectual
resources and the answer of a good conscience towards God; and to think I
ought to sacrifice my pride, and renew my efforts once again to make his
home agreeable and lead him back to the path of virtue; not by false
professions of love, and not by pretended remorse, but by mitigating my
habitual coldness of manner, and commuting my frigid civility into
kindness wherever an opportunity occurred; and not only was I beginning
to think so, but I had already begun to act upon the thought--and what
was the result? No answering spark of kindness, no awakening penitence,
but an unappeasable ill-humour, and a spirit of tyrannous exaction that
increased with indulgence, and a lurking gleam of self-complacent triumph
at every detection of relenting softness in my manner, that congealed me
to marble again as often as it recurred; and this morning he finished the
business:--I think the petrifaction is so completely effected at last
that nothing can melt me again. Among his letters was one which he
perused with symptoms of unusual gratification, and then threw it across
the table to me, with the admonition,--

'There! read that, and take a lesson by it!'

It was in the free, dashing hand of Lady Lowborough. I glanced at the
first page; it seemed full of extravagant protestations of affection;
impetuous longings for a speedy reunion--and impious defiance of God's
mandates, and railings against His providence for having cast their lot
asunder, and doomed them both to the hateful bondage of alliance with
those they could not love. He gave a slight titter on seeing me change
colour. I folded up the letter, rose, and returned it to him, with no
remark, but--

'Thank you, I will take a lesson by it!'

My little Arthur was standing between his knees, delightedly playing with
the bright, ruby ring on his finger. Urged by a sudden, imperative
impulse to deliver my son from that contaminating influence, I caught him
up in my arms and carried him with me out of the room. Not liking this
abrupt removal, the child began to pout and cry. This was a new stab to
my already tortured heart. I would not let him go; but, taking him with
me into the library, I shut the door, and, kneeling on the floor beside
him, I embraced him, kissed him, wept over with him with passionate
fondness. Rather frightened than consoled by this, he turned struggling
from me, and cried out aloud for his papa. I released him from my a