rself to read it,
that she may have it in her power to mark any thing mistaken or
misstated. As it will never appear till after my extinction, it would
be but fair she should see it; that is to say, herself willing. Your
"Blackwood" accuses me of treating women harshly; but I have been
their martyr; my whole life has been sacrificed to them and by them.'

It was a part of Byron's policy to place Lady Byron in positions before
the world where she _could_ not speak, and where her silence would be set
down to her as haughty, stony indifference and obstinacy. Such was the
pretended negotiation through Madame de Stael, and such now this
apparently fair and generous offer to let Lady Byron see and mark this
manuscript.

The little Ada is now in her fifth year--a child of singular sensibility
and remarkable mental powers--one of those exceptional children who are
so perilous a charge for a mother.

Her husband proposes this artful snare to her,--that she shall mark what
is false in a statement which is all built on a damning lie, that she
cannot refute over that daughter's head,--and which would perhaps be her
ruin to discuss.

Hence came an addition of two more documents, to be used 'privately among
friends,' {43} and which 'Blackwood' uses after Lady Byron is safely out
of the world to cast ignominy on her grave--the wife's letter, that of a
mother standing at bay for her daughter, knowing that she is dealing with
a desperate, powerful, unscrupulous enemy.

'Kirkby Mallory: March 10, 1820.

'I received your letter of January 1, offering to my perusal a Memoir
of part of your life. I decline to inspect it. I consider the
publication or circulation of such a composition at any time as
prejudicial to Ada's future happiness. For my own sake, I have no
reason to shrink from publication; but, notwithstanding the injuries
which I have suffered, I should lament some of the consequences.

'A. Byron.

'To Lord Byron.'

Lord Byron, writing for the public, as is his custom, makes reply:--

'Ravenna: April 3, 1820.

'I received yesterday your answer, dated March 10. My offer was an
honest one, and surely could only be construed as such even by the
most malignant casuistry. I could answer you, but it is too late, and
it is not worth while. To the mysterious menace of the last sentence,
whatever its import may be--and I cannot pretend to unriddle it-