I know she wanted to go with him, poor, tender-hearted thing; and I heard her say to him, so pitiful like, once, ‘Oh, Robert, what will become of me when you are gone! If you would only take me!’ But he only laughed at her, and cried out, ‘What! abandon the baby?’ So at last the time came for him to go, and his poor wife got paler and paler every day, till I’m sure she looked like a living corpse walking about the house,” said Miss Banks, unconsciously paraphrasing Shelley. “And this man left her?” “Lor’, yes, what did he care for her looking white and sorrowful? He was more wrapped up in his new portmanteaus, and travelling-bags, and dressing-cases, and such-like, than in his wife or his child. He went off as gay as could be, though he left Mrs. Lesley almost broken-hearted. And he didn’t leave her too well off either, I know, though she always paid mother to the moment; but all her pretty dresses and bonnets that Mr. Lesley had bought her in Paris had grown shabby, and he hadn’t bought her any new ones. He had so many expenses, she told me; for she was always making excuses for him like, and pretending that he was very good to her. Poor dear thing! after he was gone away the baby was her only comfort; and I’m sure if it hadn’t been for that child she’d have fretted herself away into the grave. Well, sir, the baby was four months old when Mr. Lesley went away to Germany, and he was only to be away three months at the longest, Susan told me: she was very friendly with me, and I always called her Susan. And she used to count the days just as she did before; and she’d say to me often how the time was going, and her husband would soon be back. She used to write him letters,--such long letters, all full of her talk about the baby, and his taking notice, and growing, and such-like; but she didn’t have many letters from him. ‘You see, Jemima, he’s always going from place to place,’ she said; ‘and then my letters lie at the post-offices where I direct them, and half the time he doesn’t receive them at all; so I can’t wonder at not hearing very often from him.’ She used to be so pleased, poor dear, when a letter did come, though I’m sure they were short enough, for I’ve seen her open them; but, ah! when the three months went by, and Mr. Lesley didn’t come back, how dreadfully she did fret!--always secretly, though; for she didn’t seem to like that anybody should know her troubles, for fear they should blame him, the brute! ‘He’s going farther north,’ she told me; ‘Germany’s such a big country, you know, Jemima; and I’m afraid, from what Robert says, he thinks of going beyond Germany, to St. Petersburg, perhaps. You see, it’s necessary for him to travel in order to complete his education.’ I couldn’t help laughing outright at this; for I thought if Mr. Lesley wasn’t educated enough with all his books, and colleges, and crackjaw languages, and such-like, he never would be educated. However, that was