January 10th, 1827. - While writing the above, yesterday evening, Isat in the drawing-room. Mr. Huntingdon was present, but, as Ithought, asleep on the sofa behind me. He had risen, however,unknown to me, and, actuated by some base spirit of curiosity, beenlooking over my shoulder for I know not how long; for when I hadlaid aside my pen, and was about to close the book, he suddenlyplaced his hand upon it, and saying, - 'With your leave, my dear,I'll have a look at this,' forcibly wrested it from me, and,drawing a chair to the table, composedly sat down to examine it:turning back leaf after leaf to find an explanation of what he hadread. Unluckily for me, he was more sober that night than heusually is at such an hour.

Of course I did not leave him to pursue this occupation in quiet:I made several attempts to snatch the book from his hands, but heheld it too firmly for that; I upbraided him in bitterness andscorn for his mean and dishonourable conduct, but that had noeffect upon him; and, finally, I extinguished both the candles, buthe only wheeled round to the fire, and raising a blaze sufficientfor his purposes, calmly continued the investigation. I hadserious thoughts of getting a pitcher of water and extinguishingthat light too; but it was evident his curiosity was too keenlyexcited to be quenched by that, and the more I manifested myanxiety to baffle his scrutiny, the greater would be hisdetermination to persist in it besides it was too late.

'It seems very interesting, love,' said he, lifting his head andturning to where I stood, wringing my hands in silent rage andanguish; 'but it's rather long; I'll look at it some other time;and meanwhile I'll trouble you for your keys, my dear.'

'What keys?'

'The keys of your cabinet, desk, drawers, and whatever else youpossess,' said he, rising and holding out his hand.

'I've not got them,' I replied. The key of my desk, in fact, wasat that moment in the lock, and the others were attached to it.

'Then you must send for them,' said he; 'and if that old devil,Rachel, doesn't immediately deliver them up, she tramps bag andbaggage tomorrow.'

'She doesn't know where they are,' I answered, quietly placing myhand upon them, and taking them from the desk, as I thought,unobserved. 'I know, but I shall not give them up without areason.'

'And I know, too,' said he, suddenly seizing my closed hand andrudely abstracting them from it. He then took up one of thecandles and relighted it by thrusting it into the fire.

'Now, then,' sneered he, 'we must have a confiscation of property.But, first, let us take a peep into the studio.'

And putting the keys into his pocket, he walked into the library.I followed, whether with the dim idea of preventing mischief, oronly to know the worst, I can hardly tell. My painting materialswere laid together on the corner table, ready for to-morrow's use,and only covered with a cloth. He soon spied them out, and puttingdown the candle, deliberately proceeded to cast them into the fire:palette, paints, bladders, pencils, brushes, varnish: I saw themall consumed: the palette-knives snapped in two, the oil andturpentine sent hissing and roaring up the chimney. He then rangthe bell.

'Benson, take those things away,' said he, pointing to the easel,canvas, and stretcher; 'and tell the housemaid she may kindle thefire with them: your mistress won't want them any more.'

Benson paused aghast and looked at me.

'Take them away, Benson,' said I; and his master muttered an oath.

'And this and all, sir?' said the astonished servant, referring tothe half-finished picture.

'That and all,' replied the master; and the things were clearedaway.

Mr. Huntingdon then went up-stairs. I did not attempt to followhim, but remained seated in the arm-chair, speechless, tearless,and almost motionless, till he returned about half-an-hour after,and walking up to me, held the candle in my face and peered into myeyes with looks and laughter too insulting to be borne. With asudden stroke of my hand I dashed the candle to the floor.

'Hal-lo!' muttered he, starting back; 'she's the very devil forspite. Did ever any mortal see such eyes? - they shine in the darklike a cat's. Oh, you're a sweet one!' So saying, he gathered upthe candle and the candlestick. The former being broken as well asextinguished, he rang for another.

'Benson, your mistress has broken the candle; bring another.'

'You expose yourself finely,' observed I, as the man departed.

'I didn't say I'd broken it, did I?' returned he. He then threw mykeys into my lap, saying, - 'There! you'll find nothing gone butyour money, and the jewels, and a few little trifles I thought itadvisable to take into my own possession, lest your mercantilespirit should be tempted to turn them into gold. I've left you afew sovereigns in your purse, which I expect to last you throughthe month; at all events, when you want more you will be so good asto give me an account of how that's spent. I shall put you upon asmall monthly allowance, in future, for your own private expenses;and you needn't trouble yourself any more about my concerns; Ishall look out for a steward, my dear - I won't expose you to thetemptation. And as for the household matters, Mrs. Greaves must bevery particular in keeping her accounts; we must go upon anentirely new plan - '

'What great discovery have you made now, Mr. Huntingdon? Have Iattempted to defraud you?'

'Not in money matters, exactly, it seems; but it's best to keep outof the way of temptation.'

Here Benson entered with the candles, and there followed a briefinterval of silence; I sitting still in my chair, and he standingwith his back to the fire, silently triumphing in my despair.

'And so,' said he at length, 'you thought to disgrace me, did you,by running away and turning artist, and supporting yourself by thelabour of your hands, forsooth? And you thought to rob me of myson, too, and bring him up to be a dirty Yankee tradesman, or alow, beggarly painter?'

'Yes, to obviate his becoming such a gentleman as his father.'

'It's well you couldn't keep your own secret - ha, ha! It's wellthese women must be blabbing. If they haven't a friend to talk to,they must whisper their secrets to the fishes, or write them on thesand, or something; and it's well, too, I wasn't over full to-night, now I think of it, or I might have snoozed away and neverdreamt of looking what my sweet lady was about; or I might havelacked the sense or the power to carry my point like a man, as Ihave done.'

Leaving him to his self-congratulations, I rose to secure mymanuscript, for I now remembered it had been left upon the drawing-room table, and I determined, if possible, to save myself thehumiliation of seeing it in his hands again. I could not bear theidea of his amusing himself over my secret thoughts andrecollections; though, to be sure, he would find little good ofhimself therein indited, except in the former part; and oh, I wouldsooner burn it all than he should read what I had written when Iwas such a fool as to love him!

'And by-the-by,' cried he, as I was leaving the room, 'you'd bettertell that d-d old sneak of a nurse to keep out of my way for a dayor two; I'd pay her her wages and send her packing to-morrow, but Iknow she'd do more mischief out of the house than in it.'

And as I departed, he went on cursing and abusing my faithfulfriend and servant with epithets I will not defile this paper withrepeating. I went to her as soon as I had put away my book, andtold her how our project was defeated. She was as much distressedand horrified as I was - and more so than I was that night, for Iwas partly stunned by the blow, and partly excited and supportedagainst it by the bitterness of my wrath. But in the morning, whenI woke without that cheering hope that had been my secret comfortand support so long, and all this day, when I have wandered aboutrestless and objectless, shunning my husband, shrinking even frommy child, knowing that I am unfit to be his teacher or companion,hoping nothing for his future life, and fervently wishing he hadnever been born, - I felt the full extent of my calamity, and Ifeel it now. I know that day after day such feelings will returnupon me. I am a slave - a prisoner - but that is nothing; if itwere myself alone I would not complain, but I am forbidden torescue my son from ruin, and what was once my only consolation isbecome the crowning source of my despair.

Have I no faith in God? I try to look to Him and raise my heart toheaven, but it will cleave to the dust. I can only say, 'He hathhedged me about, that I cannot get out: He hath made my chainheavy. He hath filled me with bitterness - He hath made me drunkenwith wormwood.' I forget to add, 'But though He cause grief, yetwill He have compassion according to the multitude of His mercies.For He doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.'I ought to think of this; and if there be nothing but sorrow for mein this world, what is the longest life of misery to a wholeeternity of peace? And for my little Arthur - has he no friend butme? Who was it said, 'It is not the will of your Father which isin heaven that one of these little ones should perish?'