s effect--that
in the event of any accident occurring to the mother, and my
remaining the survivor, it would be my wish to have her plans carried
into effect, both with regard to the education of the child, and the
person or persons under whose care Lady B. might be desirous that she
should be placed. It is not my intention to interfere with her in any
way on the subject during her life; and I presume that it would be
some consolation to her to know,(if she is in ill health, as I am
given to understand,) that in _no_ case would any thing be done, as
far as I am concerned, but in strict conformity with Lady B.'s own
wishes and intentions--left in what manner she thought proper.

"Believe me, dear Lady B., your obliged," &c.

This negotiation, of which I know not the results, nor whether,
indeed, it ever ended in any, led naturally and frequently to
conversations on the subject of his marriage,--a topic he was himself
always the first to turn to,--and the account which he then gave, as
well of the circumstances of the separation, as of his own entire
unconsciousness of the immediate causes that provoked it, was, I
find, exactly such as, upon every occasion when the subject presented
itself, he, with an air of sincerity in which it was impossible not
to confide, promulgated. "Of what really led to the separation (said
he, in the course of one of these conversations,) I declare to you
that, even at this moment, I am wholly ignorant; as Lady Byron would
never assign her motives, and has refused to answer my letters. I
have written to her repeatedly, and am still in the habit of doing
so. Some of these letters I have sent, and others I did not, simply
because I despaired of their doing any good. You may, however, see
some of them if you like;--they may serve to throw some light upon my
feelings."

In a day or two after, accordingly, one of these withheld letters was
sent by him, enclosed in the following, to Lady ----.

LETTER 517. TO THE COUNTESS OF ----.

"Albaro, May 6.1828.

My dear Lady ----,

I send you the letter which I had forgotten, and the book[1], which I
ought to have remembered. It contains (the book, I mean,) some
melancholy truths; though I believe that it is too triste a work ever
to have been popular. The first time I ever read it (not the edition
I send you,--for I got it since,) was at the desire of Madame de
Stael, who was supposed by the good-natured world to be the
heroine;--which she was no