_N.B._ You blame, with great justice, the little power I possess of detaching myself from the affairs of my heart.--Last time I wrote, it escaped me till my letter was gone, and now I have torn open the seal to tell you that Mademoiselle Laundy is an abandoned woman, Montgomery's mistress in Paris; and, though I have no positive proof, I venture to assert she holds the same station in London. If it suits you to inform Mrs. Ashburn of her companion's principles, on the authority of my name, it is wholly at your service. LETTER XXIV FROM JANETTA LAUNDY TO CLEMENT MONTGOMERY I ought to reproach you; but, dear and irresistible as you are, your image, Montgomery, banishes every thing but sensations of pleasure. What can be the reason of your sudden gloom and distraction? I am sure the loss of your money cannot be all, because you know how easily you may be supplied by Mrs. Ashburn till you have further remittances. Why should you hesitate, when I assure you she would be obliged by your making the demand? Recollect her own words the evening she compelled you to use her pocket-book at the faro table; and, if you will not allow me to urge you on another point, at least be persuaded to spare yourself fruitless anxiety about your losses at play. Still I fear there is something else; and will you not tell it to Janetta, to your own Janetta, who has sacrificed her peace to you, what it is that thus distresses you? Do you remember how you behaved last night? I was terrified to death at your appearance. I asked if you were ill. You struck your hand on your forehead, and said you were undone. 'Is the beauteous Sibella inconstant?' asked Mrs. Ashburn.--I shall never forget the manner of your answer. You spoke through your shut teeth. 'Damnation, madam! she has ruined me!' Then, whirling round, you caught my hand, and exclaimed, 'Oh Laundy! I am indeed undone!' How I trembled!--I tremble now to think of it. For God's sake, my dear beloved Montgomery, be careful! The hated, the prying Miss Ashburn was by; and if she never suspected us before, I am sure she does now. You went up to Lady Barlowe and asked her fiercely for her nephew. 'Mr. Murden, Sir,' said Miss Ashburn looking at you with such scorn I could have killed her, 'Mr. Murden, Sir, is at present a sort of wandering knight errant. Sometime within a fortnight you will hear certain tidings of him. He may be in London.' It seemed as if you came only to ask this question; for you went away soon after; and, though you strove to be gayer, you sighed so deeply I could scarcely contain myself. I wept all night; and now I am writing instead of dressing. How dear to me every employment that has a concern with my charming Montgomery!--I know not what excuse I shall make at dinner for my melancholy appearance; but fears for my own safety are swallowed up in my apprehensions for you.