"If I wept at this cruelty, he treated me with increased brutality. You may, therefore, suppose that I was not deeply distressed to part with him. He gave me twenty guineas, and bade me a chilling farewell. From that moment I have neither seen nor heard of him. A few weeks after our separation my money was exhausted. I resolved to lead a virtuous and honourable life, and atone for my first fault. O God! I did not then know that society will not receive the penitent frail one;--that society excludes poor deceived woman from all hopes of reparation, all chances of repentance! I endeavoured to obtain a situation as a governess;--I might as well have attempted to make myself queen of England. Character--references! I had neither. Vainly did I implore one lady to whom I applied to give me a month's trial. She insulted me grossly. To another I candidly confessed my entire history: she patiently heard me to the end, and then ordered her lacquey to turn me out of the house. Oh! society does more than punish: it pursues the unfortunate female who has made one false step, with the most avenging and malignant cruelty;--it hunts her to suicide or to new ways of crime. These are the dread alternatives. At that moment, had some friendly hand been stretched out to aid me,--had I met with one kind heart that would have believed in the possibility of repentance,--had I only been blest with the chance of entering upon a career of virtue, I should have been saved! Yes--I should have redeemed my first fault, as far as redemption was possible;--and to accomplish that aim, I would have worked my nails down to the very quick,--I would have accepted any position, however menial,--I would have made any sacrifice, enjoyed any lot, so long as I was assured of earning my bread in a manner which need not make me blush. But society treated me with contempt. Why, in this Christian country, do they preach the Christian maxim, that '_there is more joy over one sinner who repenteth, than over ninety-and-nine just persons who need no repentance_?' Why is this maxim preached, when the entire conduct of society expresses in terms which cannot be misunderstood, a bold denial of its truth?" "Merciful heavens," ejaculated Richard, "can this be true? are you drawing a correct picture, Diana, or inventing a hideous fiction?" "God knows how true is all I say!" returned Mrs. Arlington, with profound sincerity of tone and manner. "Want soon stared me in the face: what could I do? Chance threw me in the way of Sir Rupert Harborough:--compelled by an imperious necessity, I became his mistress. This is my history." "And the baronet treats you kindly?" said Richard, inquiringly. "The terms upon which our connexion is based do not permit him an opportunity of being either very kind or very cruel."