was positive happiness compared to what she now endured. Envy,
regret, self-reproach, and resentment, all struggled in the breast of
the self-devoted beauty, while the paper dropped from her hand, and she
cast a fearful glance around, as if to ascertain the reality of her
fate. The dreadful certainty smote her with a sense of wretchedness too
acute to be suppressed; and, darting a look of horror at her unconscious
husband, she threw herself back in her chair, while the scalding tears
of envy, anger, and repentance fell from her eyes.

Accustomed as Henry now was to these ebullitions of _feeling_ from his
beauteous partner, he was not yet so indifferent as to behold them
unmoved; and he sought to soothe her by the kindest expressions and most
tender epithets. These indeed had long since ceased to charm away the
lady's ill-humour, but they sometimes succeeded in mollifying it. But
now their only effect seemed to be increasing the irritation, as she
turned from all her husband's inquiries, and impatiently withdrew her
hands from his.

Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible, Douglas earnestly besought
an explanation.

"There!" cried she, at length, pushing the paper towards him, "see
there what I might have been but for you; and then compare it with what
you have made me!"

Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly snatched up the paper, and
his eye instantly fell on the fatal paragraph--the poisoned dart that
struck the death-blow to all that now remained to him of happiness--the
fond idea that, even amidst childish folly and capricious estrangement,
still in the main he was beloved! With a quivering lip, and cheek
blanched with mortification and indignant contempt, he laid down the
paper; and without casting a look upon, or uttering a word to, his once
_adored and adoring Juliana,_ quitted the apartment in all that
bitterness of spirit which a generous nature must feel when it first
discovers the fallacy of a cherished affection. Henry had indeed ceased
to regard his wife with the ardour of romantic passion; nor had the
solid feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place; but he loved
her still, because he believed himself the engrossing object of her
tenderness; and in that blest delusion he had hitherto found palliatives
for her folly and consolation for all his own distresses.

To indifference he might for a time have remained insensible; because,
though his feelings were strong, his perceptions were no