g in
demanding her utter submission. Hence Jack's cause was won almost before
he began to plead it; and the brave, gentle heart, which could bear no
rancour, which bled at inflicting pain on those it loved, which even
shrank from asserting authority or demanding submission, was only too
glad to return to its natural pulses of love and affection.

CHAPTER LXXVIII. Pyramus and Thisbe

In examining the old papers at home, years afterwards, I found, docketed
and labelled with my mother's well-known neat handwriting, "From London,
April, 1760. My son's dreadful letter." When it came to be mine I
burnt the document, not choosing that that story of domestic grief and
disunion should remain amongst our family annals for future Warringtons
to gaze on, mayhap, and disobedient sons to hold up as examples of
foregone domestic rebellions. For similar reasons, I have destroyed the
paper which my mother despatched to me at this time of tyranny, revolt,
annoyance, and irritation.

Maddened by the pangs of separation from my mistress, and not unrightly
considering that Mrs. Esmond was the prime cause of the greatest grief
and misery which had ever befallen me in the world, I wrote home to
Virginia a letter, which might have been more temperate, it is true, but
in which I endeavoured to maintain the extremest respect and reticence.
I said I did not know by what motives she had been influenced, but that
I held her answerable for the misery of my future life, which she
had chosen wilfully to mar and render wretched. She had occasioned a
separation between me and a virtuous and innocent young creature,
whose own hopes, health, and happiness were cast down for ever by Mrs.
Esmond's interference. The deed was done, as I feared, and I would offer
no comment upon the conduct of the perpetrator, who was answerable to
God alone; but I did not disguise from my mother that the injury which
she had done me was so dreadful and mortal, that her life or mine could
never repair it; that the tie of my allegiance was broken towards her,
and that I never could be, as heretofore, her dutiful and respectful
son.

Madam Esmond replied to me in a letter of very great dignity (her style
and correspondence were extraordinarily elegant and fine). She uttered
not a single reproach or hard word, but coldly gave me to understand
that it was before that awful tribunal of God she had referred the case
between us, and asked for counsel; that, in respect of