Evening. - Breakfast passed well over: I was calm and coolthroughout. I answered composedly all inquiries respecting myhealth; and whatever was unusual in my look or manner was generallyattributed to the trifling indisposition that had occasioned myearly retirement last night. But how am I to get over the ten ortwelve days that must yet elapse before they go? Yet why so longfor their departure? When they are gone, how shall I get throughthe months or years of my future life in company with that man - mygreatest enemy? for none could injure me as he has done. Oh! whenI think how fondly, how foolishly I have loved him, how madly Ihave trusted him, how constantly I have laboured, and studied, andprayed, and struggled for his advantage; and how cruelly he hastrampled on my love, betrayed my trust, scorned my prayers andtears, and efforts for his preservation, crushed my hopes,destroyed my youth's best feelings, and doomed me to a life ofhopeless misery, as far as man can do it, it is not enough to saythat I no longer love my husband - I HATE him! The word stares mein the face like a guilty confession, but it is true: I hate him -I hate him! But God have mercy on his miserable soul! and make himsee and feel his guilt - I ask no other vengeance! If he could butfully know and truly feel my wrongs I should be well avenged, and Icould freely pardon all; but he is so lost, so hardened in hisheartless depravity, that in this life I believe he never will.But it is useless dwelling on this theme: let me seek once more todissipate reflection in the minor details of passing events.

Mr. Hargrave has annoyed me all day long with his serious,sympathising, and (as he thinks) unobtrusive politeness. If itwere more obtrusive it would trouble me less, for then I could snubhim; but, as it is, he contrives to appear so really kind andthoughtful that I cannot do so without rudeness and seemingingratitude. I sometimes think I ought to give him credit for thegood feeling he simulates so well; and then again, I think it is myduty to suspect him under the peculiar circumstances in which I amplaced. His kindness may not all be feigned; but still, let notthe purest impulse of gratitude to him induce me to forget myself:let me remember the game of chess, the expressions he used on theoccasion, and those indescribable looks of his, that so justlyroused my indignation, and I think I shall be safe enough. I havedone well to record them so minutely.

I think he wishes to find an opportunity of speaking to me alone:he has seemed to be on the watch all day; but I have taken care todisappoint him - not that I fear anything he could say, but I havetrouble enough without the addition of his insulting consolations,condolences, or whatever else he might attempt; and, for Milicent'ssake, I do not wish to quarrel with him. He excused himself fromgoing out to shoot with the other gentlemen in the morning, underthe pretext of having letters to write; and instead of retiring forthat purpose into the library, he sent for his desk into themorning-room, where I was seated with Milicent and Lady Lowborough.They had betaken themselves to their work; I, less to divert mymind than to deprecate conversation, had provided myself with abook. Milicent saw that I wished to be quiet, and accordingly letme alone. Annabella, doubtless, saw it too: but that was noreason why she should restrain her tongue, or curb her cheerfulspirits: she accordingly chatted away, addressing herself almostexclusively to me, and with the utmost assurance and familiarity,growing the more animated and friendly the colder and briefer myanswers became. Mr. Hargrave saw that I could ill endure it, and,looking up from his desk, he answered her questions andobservations for me, as far as he could, and attempted to transferher social attentions from me to himself; but it would not do.Perhaps she thought I had a headache, and could not bear to talk;at any rate, she saw that her loquacious vivacity annoyed me, as Icould tell by the malicious pertinacity with which she persisted.But I checked it effectually by putting into her hand the book Ihad been trying to read, on the fly-leaf of which I had hastilyscribbled, -

'I am too well acquainted with your character and conduct to feelany real friendship for you, and as I am without your talent fordissimulation, I cannot assume the appearance of it. I must,therefore, beg that hereafter all familiar intercourse may ceasebetween us; and if I still continue to treat you with civility, asif you were a woman worthy of consideration and respect, understandthat it is out of regard for your cousin Milicent's feelings, notfor yours.'

Upon perusing this she turned scarlet, and bit her lip. Covertlytearing away the leaf, she crumpled it up and put it in the fire,and then employed herself in turning over the pages of the book,and, really or apparently, perusing its contents. In a littlewhile Milicent announced it her intention to repair to the nursery,and asked if I would accompany her.

'Annabella will excuse us,' said she; 'she's busy reading.'

'No, I won't,' cried Annabella, suddenly looking up, and throwingher book on the table; 'I want to speak to Helen a minute. You maygo, Milicent, and she'll follow in a while.' (Milicent went.)'Will you oblige me, Helen?' continued she.

Her impudence astounded me; but I complied, and followed her intothe library. She closed the door, and walked up to the fire.

'Who told you this?' said she.

'No one: I am not incapable of seeing for myself.'

'Ah, you are suspicious!' cried she, smiling, with a gleam of hope.Hitherto there had been a kind of desperation in her hardihood; nowshe was evidently relieved.

'If I were suspicious,' I replied, 'I should have discovered yourinfamy long before. No, Lady Lowborough, I do not found my chargeupon suspicion.'

'On what do you found it, then?' said she, throwing herself into anarm-chair, and stretching out her feet to the fender, with anobvious effort to appear composed.

'I enjoy a moonlight ramble as well as you,' I answered, steadilyfixing my eyes upon her; 'and the shrubbery happens to be one of myfavourite resorts.'

She coloured again excessively, and remained silent, pressing herfinger against her teeth, and gazing into the fire. I watched hera few moments with a feeling of malevolent gratification; then,moving towards the door, I calmly asked if she had anything more tosay.

'Yes, yes!' cried she eagerly, starting up from her recliningposture. 'I want to know if you will tell Lord Lowborough?'

'Suppose I do?'

'Well, if you are disposed to publish the matter, I cannot dissuadeyou, of course - but there will be terrible work if you do - and ifyou don't, I shall think you the most generous of mortal beings -and if there is anything in the world I can do for you - anythingshort of - ' she hesitated.

'Short of renouncing your guilty connection with my husband, Isuppose you mean?' said I.

She paused, in evident disconcertion and perplexity, mingled withanger she dared not show.

'I cannot renounce what is dearer than life,' she muttered, in alow, hurried tone. Then, suddenly raising her head and fixing hergleaming eyes upon me, she continued earnestly: 'But, Helen - orMrs. Huntingdon, or whatever you would have me call you - will youtell him? If you are generous, here is a fitting opportunity forthe exercise of your magnanimity: if you are proud, here am I -your rival - ready to acknowledge myself your debtor for an act ofthe most noble forbearance.'

'I shall not tell him.'

'You will not!' cried she, delightedly. 'Accept my sincere thanks,then!'

She sprang up, and offered me her hand. I drew back.

'Give me no thanks; it is not for your sake that I refrain.Neither is it an act of any forbearance: I have no wish to publishyour shame. I should be sorry to distress your husband with theknowledge of it.'

'And Milicent? will you tell her?'

'No: on the contrary, I shall do my utmost to conceal it from her.I would not for much that she should know the infamy and disgraceof her relation!'

'You use hard words, Mrs. Huntingdon, but I can pardon you.'

'And now, Lady Lowborough,' continued I, 'let me counsel you toleave this house as soon as possible. You must be aware that yourcontinuance here is excessively disagreeable to me - not for Mr.Huntingdon's sake,' said I, observing the dawn of a malicious smileof triumph on her face - 'you are welcome to him, if you like him,as far as I am concerned - but because it is painful to be alwaysdisguising my true sentiments respecting you, and straining to keepup an appearance of civility and respect towards one for whom Ihave not the most distant shadow of esteem; and because, if youstay, your conduct cannot possibly remain concealed much longerfrom the only two persons in the house who do not know it already.And, for your husband's sake, Annabella, and even for your own, Iwish - I earnestly advise and entreat you to break off thisunlawful connection at once, and return to your duty while you may,before the dreadful consequences - '

'Yes, yes, of course,' said she, interrupting me with a gesture ofimpatience. 'But I cannot go, Helen, before the time appointed forour departure. What possible pretext could I frame for such athing? Whether I proposed going back alone - which Lowboroughwould not hear of - or taking him with me, the very circumstanceitself would be certain to excite suspicion - and when our visit isso nearly at an end too - little more than a week - surely you canendure my presence so long! I will not annoy you with any more ofmy friendly impertinences.'

'Well, I have nothing more to say to you.'

'Have you mentioned this affair to Huntingdon?' asked she, as I wasleaving the room.

'How dare you mention his name to me!' was the only answer I gave.

No words have passed between us since, but such as outward decencyor pure necessity demanded.