was passionately fond of my husband, whom she educated, and perhaps was wounded at the idea of his having married without consulting her. This union also put an end to hopes which had long before been formed in relation to a similar connection with that of the Duke d'Harcourt's, one of the first families in France. Mademoiselle de Grandmesnil, therefore, received me with cautious urbanity, repelled my confidence, and made me look on her whom I had considered an affectionate protectress as an enemy. The Marquis was not aware of the Countess's sentiments to me, for when they saw how fond he was, they redoubled their apparent care and attention. I did not, though, remain ignorant of the thorn hidden in the rose. This strange kind of intuition, dear mother, which you have often remarked in me, was made apparent by the most unimportant acts of the Countess, in which she evidently exhibited an expression of her indifference to me, and dissatisfaction at my marriage; I armed myself with courage, and promised to contend with the enemy provided for me by my evil fate. I resolved not to suffer my husband to know any thing of my troubles, nor to suffer the Countess's treatment to diminish my husband's attachment towards the person who had provided for his youth. To recompense me, however, for this want of affection, I had two substitutes--the perpetually increasing love of the Marquis, his tender submission to my smallest wish, and the attachment of the Prince--an enigma he has always refused to explain. Beyond all doubt this reason is powerful and irresistible, for the mention of my father's name made him open his arms, which, as I told you, he at first was determined to close hermetically. Strange must have been those talismanic sounds, changing the deeply-rooted sentiments of an old man's heart, and making him abandon the invariable principles of his mind, so as to induce him to present me, the daughter of a noble of yesterday, as one descended from a person whose virtues had won for him an immortal blessing. I must also tell you that I have seen more than one of the old friends of the Prince stand, as if they were petrified, at hearing him speak thus. I have recounted all those happy scenes, dear mother, merely to compare the past with the present, which presents, alas, a far different aspect. My brilliant sky is obscured--I see in the horizon nothing but clouds. Perhaps I am mistaken, and my too brilliant imagination, against which you have often warned me, fills my mind with too melancholy ideas. Were you but with me, could I but cast myself in your arms, press you to my heart, and imbibe confidence from you! Listen, then, to words I shall confide to this cold paper,