And then, the soft flattery of his attentions before the world, bestowed with a delicacy that only high breeding ever understands. What wonder if my imagination followed where my heart had gone before, and if the visions of a future blended with the ecstasies of the present! I cannot bring myself to speak of his treachery. No, Kitty, it would be to arraign myself were I to do so. My heartstrings are breaking, as I ask myself, "Is this, then, the love that I inspired? Are these the proofs of a devotion I fondly fancied eternal?" No more can I speak of our last meeting, the agony of which must endure while life remains. When he left me, I almost dreaded that in his despair he might be driven to suicide. He fled from the house,--it was past midnight,--and never appeared the whole of the following day; another and another passed over,--my terrors increased, my fears rose to madness. I could restrain myself no longer, and hurried away to confide my agonizing sorrows to James's ear. It was early, and he was still sleeping. As I stole across the silent room, I saw an open note upon the table,--I knew the hand and seized it at once. There were but four lines, and they ran thus:-- "Dear Jim,--The birds are wild and not very plenty; but there is some capital boar-shooting, and hares in abundance. "They tell me Lady George is in Florence; pray see her, and let me know how she 's looking. "Ever yours, "George Tiverton. "MAREMMA." I tottered to a seat, Kitty, and burst into tears. Yours are now falling for me,--I feel it,--I know it, dearest I can write no more. I am better now, dearest Kitty. My heart is stilled, its agonies are calmed, but my blanched cheek, my sunken eye, my bloodless lip, my trembling hand, all speak my sorrows, though my tongue shall utter them no more. Never again shall that name escape me, and I charge your friendship never to whisper it to my ears. From myself and my own fortunes I turn away as from a theme barren and profitless. Of Mary Anne--the lost, the forlorn, and the broken-hearted, you shall hear no more. On Friday last--was it Friday?--I really forget days and dates and everything--James, who has latterly become totally changed in temper and appearance, contrived to fix a quarrel of some kind or other on Sir Morris Penrhyn. The circumstance was so far the more unfortunate, since Sir M. had shown himself most kind and energetic about mamma's release, and mainly, I believe, contributed to that result. In the dark obscurity that involves the whole affair, we have failed to discover with whom the offence originated, or what it really was. We only know that James wrote a most indiscreet and intemperate note to Sir Morris, and then hastened away to appoint a friend to receive his message. By the merest accident he detected, in a passing travelling-carriage, a well-known face, followed it, and discovered--whom, think you?--but our former friend and neighbor, Dr. Belton.