She commanded post horses to be instantly sent for; she summoned her maid; she desired the nurses, the children, the _bonne_, to prepare instantly for a sudden journey, and she sat down to write the appalling news to Algernon, to dash all the hopes which he had fostered, to doom him also to a future as blank and cheerless as her own. She began, “I have scarcely the power to write what I am now compelled to impart to you. In a few more hours I shall have left this beloved home; in a few more hours I shall be an outcast from this blessed place, where I have lived as your most happy, and your honoured wife. Thank you, Algernon, for the unutterable happiness I have for two years enjoyed: thank you for all your love, all your tenderness. “I am going to my father. Poor man! he little knows the shame and misery which await the decline of his life; he who so valued the opinion of the world! Oh, Algernon, I am doomed to bring a curse on all who are connected with me! I shall bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave; I have cast a blight over the dignified and prosperous career which awaited you; I have been the bane of that unhappy man whose ungoverned, ill-fated love for me led him to practise the deceit which has worked us all so much woe. My name will be a lasting disgrace to my children,—all of them! “Algernon! when I think of you, my heart is near breaking; when I think of your return to your desolate home, when I know how you will miss me,—for I judge too well from my own, what your feelings will be,—when I think how you will miss the children, too! Heavens, I have just ordered the nurse to prepare herself and Agnes for our sad journey!—But what right have I to do so? She is your child, Algernon, and shall I deprive you of that one consolation? Shall I deprive her of an honourable station to drag her with me into shame and degradation? No! my wretchedness can scarcely know increase, and you shall be greeted on your return by her smiles, her out-stretched arms, her lovely attempts to prattle. I leave you that precious legacy. She will remind you of her who loves you still with tenfold fervour, though it is now a crime to do so. “There is a sort of pleasure in sacrificing something to you: you shall keep her and cherish her. I expect my brother every moment: he and the other members of the house have likewise received communications from Gratz. I cannot add another word—I cannot sign myself,—for, oh! what name do I now bear?”