She had given a thousand messages to the servants;--and at last the mail arrived. She heard a step--it was the waiter:--"The gentleman is not come, ma'am," he said. "I knew it," she thought;--"yet why? why?" At one time she resolved to set off for town; yet whither to go--where to find him? An idea struck her, that he had missed the mail; but as he would not leave her a prey to uncertainty, he would come by some other conveyance. She got a little comfort from this notion, and resumed her occupation of waiting; though the vagueness of her expectations rendered her a thousand times more restless than before. And all was vain. The mail had arrived at eleven o'clock--at twelve she retired to her room. She read again and again his note: his injunction, that she should take care of herself, induced her to go to bed at a little after one; but sleep was still far from her. Till she could no longer expect--till it became certain that it must be morning before he could come, she did not close her eyes. As her last hope quitted her, she wept bitterly. Where was the joyousness of the morning?--the exuberant delight with which her veins had tingled, which had painted life as a blessing? She hid her face in her pillow, and gave herself up to tears, till sleep at last stole over her senses. Early in the morning her door opened and her curtain was drawn aside. She awoke immediately, and saw Fanny Derham standing at her bed-side. "Edward! where is he?" she exclaimed, starting up. "Well, quite well," replied Fanny: "do not alarm yourself, dear Mrs. Villiers,--he has been arrested." "I must go to him immediately. Leave me for a little while, dear Fanny,--I will dress and come to you; do you order the chaise meanwhile. I can hear every thing as we are going to town."