ach, and banish me from your
presence. No mercy for one, who, though he may have erred, is surely
atoning for his errors by anguish as deep, as poignant as your own.
Night after night I walk the piazza beneath your windows. I know you
hear my step and feel that I am near. But you will not open the casement
and let me for a moment behold your features and crave your forgiveness.
O, Louise, am I to die without a pitying word or look from you?

"I sit by my Edith's bed-side through long, weary midnight hours, and
she wakes from her fitful slumbers and asks for you. 'Why does she never
come to see me now? There's no arm raises me so lightly, no hand bathes
my brow so gently, as hers. Will you not bring her, father?'

"O, what agony these words inflict! I have to feel my own rashness and
folly have deprived my sick child of a tender nurse. Louise, do you not
remember one dear, bright morning, long ago, when I was sitting at the
piano in that pleasant parlor I'm forbidden to enter now, and you stood
beside me in all your bewildering grace and beauty, that I sought from
you a promise which was given? Still, still would I conjure you, as
Steerforth said to David, _think of me at my best_. You will need to do
it soon; for your contempt and scorn are hurrying me on to deeds of
crime and wickedness. O, will you drive me to the wretch's doom, or win
me to a life of happiness and virtue? It is yours to decide."

Such were the contents of the letter which remained clenched in the
grasp of the agitated woman through the long hours of that woe-fraught
night. When the first gray tints of dawn were visible, she started and
hid it away in her bosom. Grasping a pen she traced a few lines with
trembling hand, and placed them in an envelope directed to Mrs.
Stanhope. Then unclosing her wardrobe, she selected a few articles of
clothing, made them into a small bundle, and wrapping a heavy shawl
round her slender form, and concealing her features in a large black
bonnet with a long, thick veil, she opened softly the hall door, and
stole forth into the cold, biting air, walking hurriedly over the frosty
paths till she had gained the lonesome country road beyond the village.

As Mrs. Stanhope was sitting down to breakfast, a knock called her to
the door, where she beheld Mrs. Edson's servant, who presented her with
a letter, and said her mistress had gone away very suddenly, and she
would like to know if she had left any word as to when she wou