a lodging-house!-her proud heart shook again, and her sobs rose louder and faster, as she recalled her humiliating position. Weep on, proud beauty!-our first mother wept before thee, when she sinned, and sacrificed her paradise! Thy intellectual accomplishments will avail thee but little now! It is but agony to think of the many gay assemblies over which thou hast presided, as the reigning idol of the night! the noisy and unmeaning soirees thy beautiful face has shone upon are eclipsed to thee! Those who would have given thee all the little heart they had to spare, when due deductions were made for the love they had for themselves, and all the pomps and vanities of this wicked world,' would now look on thee with scorn;-for true pity they never felt. I know not, Maria, whether I would not rather see thee what thou art, than the wife of one of those heartless puppies who hovered about the throne of thy beauty, redolent of rings and brooches, perfect in mustachio, and eye-glass, faultless in dress and jewels, yet empty in head, and hollow in heart. Fallen although thou art, there was no selfishness about thy love! No! stained as it is with guilt, it was more pure than that which is too often offered up in mockery, on the holy altar of marriage. Were I thy only judge, Maria, I should acquit and forgive thee, after a gentle reprimand. For the sake of Godfrey Malvern, thou didst give up thy high and honourable station in society, a station which thou canst never again regain; for love with thee, 'is love for evermore!' This thou didst do, well knowing that thou couldst never be his wife." "I know it," answers Maria! "yet I would rather have been his slave,-served him at table, and fulfilled every menial office, than have been the wife of any of those disgusting dandies, who, parrot-like, prated their nightly nonsense in my ear." "But remember, Maria, it is not thyself alone whom thou hast injured; thou hast, in some measure, weaned his affections from an amiable and virtuous wife, one whose first study was the happiness of her husband, and who loved him with an affection that was deeper, if not stronger than thine." "Then he deceived me!" answers Maria: "I loved him not until she forsook him; or if I did, he knew not of my love. He told me how he had struggled to support her. I know he did. He confessed to me how dearly he had loved her. I believe he had; although my heart aches to own that belief.— But when he told me, how she had left him, and gone to live in comfort and splendour, while he, with all he had endured for her sake, was still left to struggle with his difficulties-to labour alone, with no one to comfort him; I sympathised with him. I pitied him, and then I loved him." Maria! he deceived both himself and thee! Compared to him, with all thy faults, thou art an ANGEL! Godfrey Malvern ! were it not too late, now, I would blot thy name, for ever, out of this book! Thou art a villa! Why didst thou first seek the society of Maria? Why soften thy voice to her ear, and utter falsehoods against thy matchless wife?-she whose every thought was to make thee happy-she who gave up all the comforts of her father's house, her flowers, her delightful walks,-scenes which were imprinted on her innocent heart, the song of the birds,-the sound of the familiar bells, -even the poor villagers whom she relieved, and whose eyes blessed her in silence, and came to live with thee, and to bear, without murmuring, all the poverty and hardship which can only be known by those who struggle for a literary livelihood in London ;-who sat with thee, night after night, shared thy labour and thy homely meal, yet never once complained; and who only left thee, from motives of pure love ;— whose heart ached at the prospect of every mile which severed her from thee, yet bore it, in the hopes that it might be better for thyself! How couldst thou doubt her intentions, for a single moment, Godfrey Malvern, after all she had endured and suffered for thy worthless sake? Compare thy heart,-thy motives, with Emma's, Godfrey, then blush for very shame! - But it is night, Godfrey Malvern! some hours past the time which thou didst appoint to meet Maria! She sat at the window watching for thee, until long after dark. Emma also was thinking of thee at that very time. She was very unhappy, and wanted thee to comfort her. But thou hast come at last-not to her, but to Maria; thy hands are feverish, thy pulse beats too rapidly,-thou hast been writing all night-even Maria perceives that thou art not well; thou must lay thyself down upon that sofa, and rest. Maria will sit by, and keep watch over thee, and hold thy hands between her own. She did watch over him; and no accusing word escaped her lips until he awoke and said, "I must leave you, my love, and produce another chapter before morning." "Surely you are not going so soon!" answered Maria, throwing her arms around him as he rose from his seat to depart. "I have had no one to speak to, all day, until you came. Do not leave me, yet, love! I am sure you would not, if you could but know how miserable I feel when you are away!" "I am also miserable!" said Godfrey, heaving a heavy sigh as he spoke; "and there is no help for it! And were I not to leave you at times, as I do, we should be still more unhappy, by adding poverty to misery; for you know, Maria, my pen is the only weapon by which I am enabled to keep want from the door." "Then let me leave these apartments to-morrow!" replied Maria; "your absence is more painful to me than either poverty, or want, can ever be! It is only you in the whole wide world, that I now care for! Although the lady of the house is very kind to me, still I fear that she suspects I am not your wife." And she folded her arms more tightly around him, as she spoke, while her long dark ringlets fell loose upon his manly bosom; and as he returned her embrace, he felt that he was a villain! "Do not weep, Maria!" said Godfrey, the words half-choking him, as he uttered the sentence. "All will yet be well!-the time may come, when you will have too much of my company-when my own circumstances may be different, and I shall not be compelled to leave you to endure this wear and tear of brain which I now do, and to produce a given number of pages, before I am entitled to draw the few paltry pounds which are so necessary to supply us with our everyday comforts. Would to God! we never had met!-we should have been spared much misery! It is for yourself I grieve, Maria! Could I alone suffer, I would endure the most maddening agonies, without a inurmur! But I cannot forget Emma! dearly as I love you. Had I never known her, we should now have been happy. I have done her grievous wrong, Maria! and you too. But I knew not then the pangs I was inflicting. But I will never forsake you, Maria. I am a man, with all my failings, and can never cease to love you." wept like a child while he clasped her in his arms. And he "I know it, Godfrey !" answered Maria, "yet I foresaw not all. I will not say that you deceived me. I know that you loved me then-and that is enough. You I have ever loved-I shall never love another, Godfrey! I never loved any but you!-and you know it. You was my first, and will be my last, love. Nay, do not unloose my arms! If you are once unkind to me I shall destroy myself. I know how right, how necessary it is, that you should leave me. I know how deeply I have injured her! But pardon my selfishness, my weakness, my folly, my love" (and every sentence was broken by a sob); "when you are away I have no one else to think upon-if I take up a pen, and try to forget the past, it is uselessif I think, it is only of yourself,-to sit and number the hours that must elapse before I can see you again. We must be more together, God |