.

"RICHARD MARSTON"

The reader can easily conceive the feelings with which this letter was
perused. We shall not attempt to describe them; nor shall we weary his
patience by a detail of all the circumstances attending Mrs. Marston's
departure. Suffice it to mention that, in less than a fortnight after the
receipt of the letter which we have just copied, she had forever left the
mansion of Gray Forest.

In a small house, in a sequestered part of the rich county of Warwick,
the residence of Mrs. Marston and her daughter was for the present fixed.
And there, for a time, the heart-broken and desolate lady enjoyed, at
least, the privilege of an immunity from the intrusions of all external
trouble. But the blow, under which the feeble remains of her health and
strength were gradually to sink, had struck too surely home; and, from
month to month--almost from week to week--the progress of decay was
perceptible.

Meanwhile, though grieved and humbled, and longing to comfort his unhappy
mother Charles Marston, for the present absolutely dependant upon his
father, had no choice but to remain at Cambridge, and to pursue his
studies there.

At Gray Forest Marston and the partner of his guilt continued to live.
The old servants were all gradually dismissed, and new ones hired by
Mademoiselle de Barras. There they dwelt, shunned by everybody, in a
stricter and more desolate seclusion than ever. The novelty of the
unrestraint and licence of their new mode of life speedily passed away,
and with it the excited and guilty sense of relief which had for a time
produced a false and hollow gaiety. The sense of security prompted in
mademoiselle a hundred indulgences which, in her former precarious
position, she would not have dreamed of. Outbreaks of temper, sharp and
sometimes violent, began to manifest themselves on her part, and renewed
disappointment and blacker remorse to darken the soul of Marston himself.
Often, in the dead of the night, the servants would overhear their bitter
and fierce altercations ringing through the melancholy mansion, and
often the reckless use of terrible and mysterious epithets of crime.
Their quarrels increased in violence and in frequency, and, before two
years had passed, feelings of bitterness, hatred, and dread, alone seemed
to subsist between them. Yet upon Marston she continued to exercise a
powerful and mysterious influence. There was a dogged, apathetic
submission on his part, and a growing inso