My message, with regard to the infant, is simply to this effect—­that in the event of any accident occurring to the mother, and my remaining the survivor, it would be my wish to have her plans carried into effect, both with regard to the education of the child, and the person or persons under whose care Lady B. might be desirous that she should be placed.  It is not my intention to interfere with her in any way on the subject during her life; and I presume that it would be some consolation to her to know,(if she is in ill health, as I am given to understand,) that in no case would any thing be done, as far as I am concerned, but in strict conformity with Lady B.’s own wishes and intentions—­left in what manner she thought proper.

“Believe me, dear Lady B., your obliged,” &c.

This negotiation, of which I know not the results, nor whether, indeed, it ever ended in any, led naturally and frequently to conversations on the subject of his marriage,—­a topic he was himself always the first to turn to,—­and the account which he then gave, as well of the circumstances of the separation, as of his own entire unconsciousness of the immediate causes that provoked it, was, I find, exactly such as, upon every occasion when the subject presented itself, he, with an air of sincerity in which it was impossible not to confide, promulgated.  “Of what really led to the separation (said he, in the course of one of these conversations,) I declare to you that, even at this moment, I am wholly ignorant; as Lady Byron would never assign her motives, and has refused to answer my letters.  I have written to her repeatedly, and am still in the habit of doing so.  Some of these letters I have sent, and others I did not, simply because I despaired of their doing any good.  You may, however, see some of them if you like;—­they may serve to throw some light upon my feelings.”

In a day or two after, accordingly, one of these withheld letters was sent by him, enclosed in the following, to Lady ——.

LETTER 517.  TO THE COUNTESS OF ——.

“Albaro, May 6.1828.

My dear Lady ——­,

I send you the letter which I had forgotten, and the book[1], which I ought to have remembered.  It contains (the book, I mean,) some melancholy truths; though I believe that it is too triste a work ever to have been popular.  The first time I ever read it (not the edition I send you,—­for I got it since,) was at the desire of Madame de Stael, who was supposed by the good-natured world to be the heroine;—­which she was not, however, and was furious at the supposition.  This occurred in Switzerland, in the summer of 1816, and the last season in which I ever saw that celebrated person.

[Footnote 1:  Adolphe, by M. Benjamin Constant.]

“I have a request to make to my friend Alfred (since he has not disdained the title), viz. that he would condescend to add a cap to the gentleman in the jacket,—­it would complete his costume,—­and smooth his brow, which is somewhat too inveterate a likeness of the original, God help me!”