of the front parlour boded me no good. It was not in her old character.
She did not use to know there were doors or windows in the house--and
now she goes out three times in a week. It is to meet some one, I'll
lay my life on't. "Where is she gone?"--"To my grandmother's, Sir."
"Where does your grandmother live now?"--"At Somers' Town." I
immediately set out to Somers' Town. I passed one or two streets, and
at last turned up King Street, thinking it most likely she would return
that way home. I passed a house in King Street where I had once lived,
and had not proceeded many paces, ruminating on chance and change and
old times, when I saw her coming towards me. I felt a strange pang at
the sight, but I thought her alone. Some people before me moved on, and
I saw another person with her. THE MURDER WAS OUT. It was a tall,
rather well-looking young man, but I did not at first recollect him. We
passed at the crossing of the street without speaking. Will you believe
it, after all that had past between us for two years, after what had
passed in the last half-year, after what had passed that very morning,
she went by me without even changing countenance, without expressing the
slightest emotion, without betraying either shame or pity or remorse or
any other feeling that any other human being but herself must have shewn
in the same situation. She had no time to prepare for acting a part, to
suppress her feelings--the truth is, she has not one natural feeling in
her bosom to suppress. I turned and looked--they also turned and looked
and as if by mutual consent, we both retrod our steps and passed again,
in the same way. I went home. I was stifled. I could not stay in the
house, walked into the street and met them coming towards home. As soon
as he had left her at the door (I fancy she had prevailed with him to
accompany her, dreading some violence) I returned, went up stairs, and
requested an interview. Tell her, I said, I'm in excellent temper and
good spirits, but I must see her! She came smiling, and I said, "Come
in, my dear girl, and sit down, and tell me all about it, how it is and
who it is."--" What," she said, "do you mean Mr. C----?" "Oh," said I,
"Then it is he! Ah! you rogue, I always suspected there was something
between you, but you know you denied it lustily: why did you not tell me
all about it at the time, instead of letting me suffer as I have done?
But, however, no reproaches. I only wish