th the statement because it has a technical
error in it; and he does this at the moment that he is furnishing us an
error himself, and of a graver sort. He says:

"If Turner carried off his wife to Devonshire he brought her
back and Shelley was staying with her and her mother on terms
of cordial intimacy in March, 1814."

We accept the "cordial intimacy"--it was the very thing Harriet was
complaining of--but there is nothing to show that it was Turner who
brought his wife back. The statement is thrown in as if it were not only
true, but was proof that Turner was not uneasy. Turner's movements are
proof of nothing. Nothing but a statement from Turner's mouth would have
any value here, and he made none.

Six days after writing his letter Shelley and his wife were together
again for a moment--to get remarried according to the rites of the
English Church.

Within three weeks the new husband and wife were apart again, and the
former was back in his odorous paradise. This time it is the wife who
does the deserting. She finds Cornelia too strong for her, probably. At
any rate, she goes away with her baby and sister, and we have a playful
fling at her from good Mrs. Boinville, the "mysterious spinner Maimuna";
she whose "face was as a damsel's face, and yet her hair was gray"; she
of whom the biographer has said, "Shelley was indeed caught in an almost
invisible thread spun around him, but unconsciously, by this subtle and
benignant enchantress." The subtle and benignant enchantress writes to
Hogg, April 18: "Shelley is again a widower; his beauteous half went to
town on Thursday."

Then Shelley writes a poem--a chant of grief over the hard fate which
obliges him now to leave his paradise and take up with his wife again.
It seems to intimate that the paradise is cooling towards him; that he
is warned off by acclamation; that he must not even venture to tempt
with one last tear his friend Cornelia's ungentle mood, for her eye is
glazed and cold and dares not entreat her lover to stay:

Exhibit E

"Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries 'Away!'
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood;
Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy
stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude."

Back to the solitude of his now empty home, that is!

"Away! away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pou