thanking him for his kindness, but expressing my determination never to touch one farthing of the offered allowance.

After I had dispatched this final letter, I felt more satisfied with myself than I had done for a long time, and following the precious advice given me by my new friends, never to be idle, nor to give way to despairing thoughts, but to put my whole trust in Him who will wipe away all tears from all eyes, I occupied myself in preparing to leave the scene of so much unhappiness and suffering.

After taking an affectionate and grateful leave of Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge, I set out for London, with the intention of taking up my abode with good Mrs. Davies, till I could procure a suitable situation.

I was much harassed in mind with thinking how I could prevent my kind friend from penetrating the cause of my evident distress, and inquiring too closely into my reasons for quitting the Duchess of Beaulieu.

When, however, I arrived at her house, I found that she was confined to her bed by ill

ness, and that she was, therefore, not in a state to scrutinize too closely my past proceedings.

I hastened to her bed-side, where she received me with her usual affection.

In answer to her inquiries, I merely said that I had been very ill, and had quitted the Duchess of Beaulieu, who was gone to live in France, having separated from her husband. In fact, the latter (as the marquis had informed me in our last interview) was so indignant at the unworthy and cruel part his wife had taken in suppressing the letters of his son and Lady Emily Loran, and also at her profligacy in sacrificing me to be a tool in her hands, that he determined never to live in the same house with her again.

After a most angry interview, therefore, they parted.

The world never knew the reason, and I often afterwards heard a hundred given, but never the right one.

Fortunately she had not the slightest suspicion of the false marriage that had been passed upon me, or it would have been made

use of by her to blast the character and future prospects of her step-son, who was already sufficiently miserable.

I gladly seized the opportunity offered me of returning in some measure the kindness I had received from Mrs. Davies, and accordingly determined not to accept of any situation till she was restored to health, in order that I might devote myself entirely to her. And pleased was I to find that my attentions and care of her were crowned with success, while, at the same time, my own mind and body being fully employed, I was the less able to dwell upon my own misfortunes.

Mrs. Pratt had been dead six months, and had kindly remembered me by leaving ten pounds in the hands of Mrs. Davies for my use. This sum I insisted upon that kind friend retaining as a very small return for the shelter I had so often received from her.

When I arrived in town from the farm, I had thirty pounds remaining from the money I had received from the duke. This I resolved not to touch myself. I therefore purchased

out of it a silver ink-stand, which I forwarded. with a few lines to Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge, as a humble mark of my deep gratitude for the great benefits I had derived from their unremitted care and attention to my feeble frame and still more feeble mind.

The remainder of the money I enclosed at the same time, with an entreaty that it might be laid out in a small marble over my little darling's grave, with only the words "Frederick Decourcy" on it.

Thus having divested myself of every shilling I had received from the family of Beaulieu, since my ill-fated connexion with the marquis, I felt more satisfied with myself than I had done for some time, though, I confess, I could not divest myself of a feeling of extreme sadness as the thought of every link between. us being now eternally severed rushed across my mind.

When I thought over my short life in the solitude of night, I could scarcely believe it more than a dream. I was not quite nineteen, and yet I felt as if I had lived twice that time,

and fancied that few girls had seen so much misery as myself.

Without father, without mother, husband, or child, and yet for a few fleeting years having been blest with the two former, and for a few short months having enjoyed the delight of possessing the two latter, I felt now utterly bereaved.

Constant, however, to the promises I had made to my excellent advisers, Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge, of still exerting myself, and ever depending on an all-wise Providence, I did not, as formerly, give way to those feelings of despondency which sometimes almost weighed me to the earth, but strove to the uttermost to deserve the comforts I was still suffered to

enjoy.