. . . . . . .
.
Bingen, on the Rhine, May 19.--Letters from Devonshire at last,
which
relieve my wretchedness in some small degree. The frightful
misfortune at Brussels will at least be kept secret, so far as I
am
concerned. Beaupark House is shut up, and the servants are
dismissed, "in
consequence of my
residenceabroad." To Father
Newbliss I have
privately written. Not
daring to tell him the
truth, I leave him to infer that my marriage
engagement has been
broken off, he writes back a kind and comforting letter. Time
will, I suppose, help me to bear my sad lot. Perhaps a day may
come when Stella and her friends will know how
cruelly they have
wronged me.
London, November 18,1860.--The old wound has been opened again. I
met her
accidentally in a picture
gallery. She turned deadly
pale, and left the place. Oh, Stella! Stella!
London, August 12, 1861.--Another meeting with her. And another
shock to
endure, which I might not have suffered if I had been a
reader of the marriage announcements in the newspapers. Like
other men, I am in the habit of leaving the marriage
announcements to the women.
I went to visit an
agreeable new
acquaintance, Mr. Romayne. His
wife drove up to the house while I was looking out of window. I
recognized Stella! After two years, she has made use of the
freedom which the law has given to her. I must not
complain of
that, or of her treating me like a stranger, when her husband
innocently introduced us. But when are were afterward left
together for a few minutes--no! I cannot write down the merciless
words she said to me. Why am I fool enough to be as fond of her
as ever?
Beaupark, November 16.--Stella's married life is not likely to be
a happy one. To-day's newspaper announces the
conversion of her
husband to the Roman Catholic Faith. I can
honestly say I am
sorry for her,
knowing how she has suffered, among her own
relatives, by these
conversions. But I so hate him, that this
proof of his
weakness is a
downrightconsolation to me.
Beaupark, January 27, 1862.--A letter from Stella, so startling
and
deplorable that I cannot remain away from her after reading
it. Her husband has
deliberately deserted her. He has gone to
Rome, to serve his term of probation for the
priesthood. I travel
to London by to-day's train.
London, January 27.--Short as it is, I looked at Stella's letter
again and again on the journey. The tone of the closing sentences
is still studiously cold. After informing me that she is staying
with her mother in London, she concludes her letter in these
terms:
"Be under no fear that the burden of my troubles will be laid on
your shoulders. Since the fatal day when we met at Ten Acres, you
have shown
forbearance and
compassion toward me. I don't stop to
inquire if you are sincere--it rests with you to prove that. But
I have some questions to ask, which no person but you can answer.
For the rest, my friendless position will perhaps plead with you
not to
misunderstand me. May I write again?"
Inveterate
distrust in every sentence! If any other woman had
treated me in this way, I should have put her letter into the
fire, and should not have stirred from my comfortable house.
January 29.--A day missed out of my Diary. The events of
yesterday unnerved me for the time.
Arriving at Derwent's Hotel on the evening of the 27th, I sent a
line to Stella by
messenger, to ask when she could receive me.
It is strange how the merest trifles seem to touch women! Her
note in reply contains the first expression of friendly feeling
toward me which has escaped her since we parted at Brussels. And
this expression proceeds from her ungovernable surprise and
gratitude at my
taking the trouble to travel from Devonshire to
London on her account!
For the rest, she proposed to call on me at the hotel the next
morning. She and her mother, it appeared, differed in opinion on
the subject of Mr. Romayne's
behavior to her; and she wished to
see me, in the first
instance, unrestrained by Mrs. Eyrecourt's
interference.