seldom ever made its way.  Now, I do not want to justify myself, because I cannot do so.  I said this moment that the human heart is a great mystery.  So it is.  Whilst my passion for Lady Emily was literally beyond all restraint, I nevertheless felt visitations of remorse that were terrible.  The image of my gentle Maria, sweet, contented, affectionate, and uncomplaining, would sometimes come before me, and—­pardon me, my friend; I am very weak, but I will resume in a few moments.  Well, the struggle within me was great.  I had a young duke as a rival; but I was not only a rising man, but actually had a party in the House of Commons.  Her family, high and ambitious, were anxious to procure my political support, and held out the prospect of a peerage.  My wife was dying; I loved Lady Emily; I was without offspring; I was poor; I was ambitious.  She was beautiful, of high family and powerful connections; she was immensely rich, too, highly accomplished, and enthusiastically attached to me.  These were temptations.

“At this period it so fell out that a sister of my wife’s became governess in Lady Emily’s family; but the latter were ignorant of the connection.  This alarmed me, frightened me; for I feared she would disclose my marriage.  I lost no time in bringing about a private interview with her, in which I entreated her to keep the matter secret, stating that a short time would enable me to bring her sister with eclat into public life.  I also prevailed upon her to give up her situation, and furnished her with money for Maria, to whom I sent her, with an assurance that my house should ever be her home, and that it was contrary to my wishes ever to hear my wife’s sister becoming a governess; and this indeed was true.  I also wrote to my wife, to the effect that the pressure of my parliamentary duties would prevent me from seeing her for a couple of months.

“In this position matters were for about a fortnight or three weeks, when, at last, a letter reached me from my sister-in-law, giving a detailed account of my wife’s death, and stating that she and Miss Norton were about to make a tour to Italy, for the purpose of acquiring the language.  This letter was a diabolical falsehood, Sir Edward; but it accomplished its purpose.  She had gleaned enough of intelligence in the family, by observation and otherwise, to believe that my wife’s death alone would enable me, in a short time, to become united to Lady Emily; and that if my marriage with her took place whilst her sister lived, I believing her to be dead, she would punish me for what she considered my neglect of her, and my unjustifiable attachment to another woman during Maria’s life.  All communication ceased between us.  My wife was unable to write; but from what her sister stated to her, probably with exaggerations, her pride prevented her from holding any correspondence with a husband who refused to acknowledge his marriage with her, and whose affections had been transferred