ith unconcern. 'If you have,
you must write to-night; as I depart for London early to-morrow
morning;' then taking the child by the hand, without even bowing to me,
left the room.
"The emotions Lady Corbet had endeavoured to repress, then gained the
ascendancy, and she burst into tears. The subject was delicate; I,
however, ventured to speak, though I could offer little consolation. It
was then she acquainted me with the preceding particulars, and regretted
the obdurate infatuation of her father, who had sacrificed her happiness
for the possession of wealth.
"Sir Henry, as I was afterwards informed, swayed by the report which
was circulated of my attentions to his lady, insisted on her
accompanying him to London; and as I soon after left England, I neither
saw nor heard any thing of her till about a year and a half since; when,
being in London, I one morning went to breakfast with Sir John Dursley,
and was there surprised by the appearance of Lady Corbet. Her dress
instantly informed me she was a widow; yet, as knowing her abhorrence of
Sir Henry, I was perplexed to account for the sorrow depicted in her
countenance.
"The mystery was soon explained. For some time after my departure, Sir
Henry's conduct and behaviour continued invariably the same, when her
happiness received an additional shock, by the total alienation of his
affections from his son, who, as his years and sensibility increased,
severely felt the estrangement, which produced an habitual melancholy.
His amusements were disregarded; company became disagreeable; and the
only pleasure or recreation he seemed to experience, or would take, was
in wandering through the grounds and plantations; where, when the
servants his anxious mother sent in search of him, could not trace his
haunts, he used even to pass the night.
"At last Sir Henry fell a victim to a decline: he still retained his
dislike to his son; but, to make his lady amends, as he termed it, for
the unhappiness he had occasioned her, he left her every part of his
fortune, without restriction, exclusive of the family estate (about
eight thousand a year) which the present Sir Henry comes to the
possession of, on attaining his one-and-twentieth year.
"The attention of Sir Henry to Lady Corbet, on the death of his father,
was the richest balm to her heart, and she looked forward to that
happiness of which she had so many years regretted the deprivation: but
the flattering illusion soon fled! Her
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