ven suspects that his life is aimed at. He is
in despair whenever the conversation turns on you, Livingston, and my
brother. However, he says neither good nor ill of absent people; but, on
the contrary, he always avoids speaking of them. His father keeps to the
house: I have not seen him yet. A number of the Hamiltons are here, and
accompany me everywhere; all the friends of the other one follow me each
time I go to see him. He has begged me to be at his rising to-morrow. My
messenger will tell you the rest.

"Burn my letter: there would be danger in keeping it. Besides, it is
hardly worth the trouble, being filled only with dark thoughts.

"As for you, do not be offended if I am sad and uneasy to-day, that to
please you I rise above honour, remorse, and dangers. Do not take in bad
part what I tell you, and do not listen to the malicious explanations
of your wife's brother; he is a knave whom you ought not to hear to the
prejudice of the most tender and most faithful mistress that ever was.
Above all, do not allow yourself to be moved by that woman: her sham
tears are nothing in comparison with the real tears that I shed, and
with what love and constancy make me suffer at succeeding her; it is for
that alone that in spite of myself I betray all those who could cross
my love. God have mercy on me, and send you all the prosperity that a
humble and tender friend who awaits from you soon another reward wishes
you. It is very late; but it is always with regret that I lay down my
pen when I write to you; however, I shall not end my letter until I
shall have kissed your hands. Forgive me that it is so ill-written:
perhaps I do so expressly that you may be obliged to re-read it several
times: I have transcribed hastily what I had written down on my tablets,
and my paper has given out. Remember a tender friend, and write to her
often: love me as tenderly as I love you, and remember

"Madame de Rere's words;
The English;
His mother;
The Earl of Argyll;
The Earl of Bothwell;
The Edinburgh dwelling."

SECOND LETTER.

"It seems that you have forgotten me during your absence, so much the
more that you had promised me, at setting out, to let me know in detail
everything fresh that should happen. The hope of receiving your news was
giving me almost as much delight as your return could have brought me:
you have put it off longer than you promised me. As for me, although you
do not write, I play my