though it might be admitted that he used art and violence to tear her from her home, yet in the end she was vanquished; and even maternal duties and affections sacrificed to irresistible passion. "Can you wonder that such a man as Sir Boyvill, ever engrossed by the mighty idea of self--yet fearful that that self should receive the minutest wound; proud of his wife--because, being so lovely and so admired, she was all his--grateful to her, for being so glorious and enviable a possession--can you wonder that this vain but sensitive man should be wound up to the height of jealous rage by the loss of such a good, accompanied by circumstances of deception and dishonour? He had been fond of his wife in return for her affection, while she in reality loved another; he had respected the perfection of her truth, and there was falsehood at the core. Had she avowed the traitor passion; declared her struggles, and, laying bare her heart, confessed that, while she preferred his honour and happiness, yet in the weakness of her nature another had stolen a portion of that sentiment which she desired to consecrate to him--then with what tenderness he had forgiven her--with what soothing forbearance he had borne her fault--how magnanimous and merciful he had shown himself! But she had acted the generous part; thanks had come from him--the shows of obligation from her. He fancied that he held a flower in his hand, from which the sweetest perfume alone could be extracted--but the germe was blighted, and the very core turned to bitter ashes and dust. "Such a theme is painful; howsoever we view it, it is scarcely possible to imagine any event in life more desolating. To be happy is to attain one's wishes, and to look forward to the lastingness of their possession. Sir Boyvill had long been skeptical and distrusting; but at last he was brought to believe that he had drawn the fortunate ticket; that his wife's faith was a pure and perfect chrysolite--and if in his heart he deemed that she did not regard him with all the reverence that was his due; if she did not nurture all the pride of place, and disdain of her fellow-creatures which he thought that his wife ought to feel--yet her many charms and virtues left him no room for complaint. Her sensibility, her vivacity, her wit, her accomplishments, her exceeding loveliness--they were all undeniably his--and all made her a piece of enchantment. This merit was laid low--deprived of its crown--her fidelity to him; and the selfish, the heartless, and the cold whom she reproved and disliked, were lifted to the eminence of virtue, while she lay fallen, degraded, worthless.