hat some of the
circumstances recorded are not of a kind to reflect honour
upon those involved in them; and as many are still living,
in every way honoured and honourable, who stand in close
relation to the principal actors in this drama, the reader
will see the necessity of the course which we have adopted.

The person upon whom she bestowed her hand was a Mr. Carew, a gentleman
of property and consideration in the north of England.

I remember well the eventful day of the wedding; the thronging
carriages, the noisy menials, the loud laughter, the merry faces, and
the gay dresses. Such sights were then new to me, and harmonised ill
with the sorrowful feelings with which I regarded the event which was to
separate me, as it turned out, for ever from a sister whose tenderness
alone had hitherto more than supplied all that I wanted in my mother's
affection.

The day soon arrived which was to remove the happy couple from Ashtown
House. The carriage stood at the hall-door, and my poor sister kissed me
again and again, telling me that I should see her soon.

The carriage drove away, and I gazed after it until my eyes filled with
tears, and, returning slowly to my chamber, I wept more bitterly and, so
to speak, more desolately, than ever I had done before.

My father had never seemed to love or to take an interest in me. He had
desired a son, and I think he never thoroughly forgave me my unfortunate
sex.

My having come into the world at all as his child he regarded as a kind
of fraudulent intrusion, and as his antipathy to me had its origin in
an imperfection of mine, too radical for removal, I never even hoped to
stand high in his good graces.

My mother was, I dare say, as fond of me as she was of anyone; but
she was a woman of a masculine and a worldly cast of mind. She had no
tenderness or sympathy for the weaknesses, or even for the affections,
of woman's nature and her demeanour towards me was peremptory, and often
even harsh.

It is not to be supposed, then, that I found in the society of my
parents much to supply the loss of my sister. About a year after her
marriage, we received letters from Mr. Carew, containing accounts of my
sister's health, which, though not actually alarming, were calculated
to make us seriously uneasy. The symptoms most dwelt upon were loss of
appetite and cough.

The letters concluded by intimating that he would avail himself of my
father and mother's rep