ice；　and　rose　to　go。　　I　begged　her　to　sit　a　few　minutes；　that　I　might　try　to　recollect　if　there　was　anything　else　I　wished　to　say　to　her；　perhaps　for　the　last　time；　and　then；　not　finding　anything；　I　bade　her　good　night；　and　asked　for　a　farewell　kiss。　　Do　you　know　she　refused；　so　little　does　she　understand　what　is　due　to　friendship；　or　love；　or　honour！　　We　parted　friends；　however；　and　I　felt　deep　grief；　but　no　enmity　against　her。　　I　thought　C　had　pressed　his　suit　after　I　went；　and　had　prevailed。　　There　was　no　harm　in　thata　little　fickleness　or　so；　a　little　over…pretension　to　unalterable　attachmentbut　that　was　all。　　She　liked　him　better　than　meit　was　my　hard　hap；　but　I　must　bear　it。　　I　went　out　to　roam　the　desert　streets；　when；　turning　a　corner；　whom　should　I　meet　but　her　very　lover？　　I　went　up　to　him　and　asked　for　a　few　minutes'　conversation　on　a　subject　that　was　highly　interesting　to　me　and　I　believed　not　indifferent　to　him：　and　in　the　course　of　four　hours'　talk；　it　came　out　that　for　three　months　previous　to　my　quitting　London　for　Scotland；　she　had　been　playing　the　same　game　with　him　as　with　methat　he　breakfasted　first；　and　enjoyed　an　hour　of　her　society；　and　then　I　took　my　turn；　so　that　we　never　jostled；　and　this　explained　why；　when　he　came　back　sometimes　and　passed　my　door；　as　she　was　sitting　in　my　lap；　she　coloured　violently；　thinking　if　her　lover　looked　in；　what　a　denouement　there　would　be。　　He　could　not　help　again　and　again　expressing　his　astonishment　at　finding　that　our　intimacy　had　continued　unimpaired　up　to　so　late　a　period　after　he　came；　and　when　they　were　on　the　most　intimate　footing。　　She　used　to　deny　positively　to　him　that　there　was　anything　between　us；　just　as　she　used　to　assure　me　with　impenetrable　effrontery　that　〃Mr。　C　was　nothing　to　her；　but　merely　a　lodger。〃　　All　this　while　she　kept　up　the　farce　of　her　romantic　attachment　to　her　old　lover；　vowed　that　she　never　could　alter　in　that　respect；　let　me　go　to　Scotland　on　the　solemn　and　repeated　assurance　that　there　was　no　new　flame；　that　there　was　no　bar　between　us　but　this　shadowy　loveI　leave　her　on　this　understanding；　she　becomes　more　fond　or　more　intimate　with　her　new　lover；　he　quitting　the　house　（whether　tired　out　or　not；　I　can't　say）in　revenge　she　ceases　to　write　to　me；　keeps　me　in　wretched　suspense；　treats　me　like　something　loathsome　to　her　when　I　return　to　enquire　the　cause；　denies　it　with　scorn　and　impudence；　destroys　me　and　shews　no　pity；　no　desire　to　soothe　or　shorten　the　pangs　she　has　occasioned　by　her　wantonness　and　hypocrisy；　and　wishes　to　linger　the　affair　on　to　the　last　moment；　going　out　to　keep　an　appointment　with　another　while　she　pretends　to　be　obliging　me　in　the　tenderest　point　（which　C　himself　said　was　too　much）。　。　。　。What　do　you　think　of　all　this？　　Shall　I　tell　you　my　opinion？　　But　I　must　try　to　do　it　in　another　letter。
  TO　THE　SAME
  （In　conclusion）
  I　did　not　sleep　a　wink　all　that　night；　nor　did　I　know　till　the　next　day　the　full　meaning　of　what　had　happened　to　me。　　With　the　morning's　light；　conviction　glared　in　upon　me　that　I　had　not　only　lost　her　for　everbut　every　feeling　I　had　ever　had　towards　herrespect；　tenderness；　pityall　but　my　fatal　passion；　was　gone。　　The　whole　was　a　mockery；　a　frightful　illusion。　　I　had　embraced　the　false　Florimel　instead　of　the　true；　or　was　like　the　man　in　the　Arabian　Nights　who　had　married　a　GOUL。　　How　different　was　the　idea　I　once　had　of　her？　　Was　this　she；
  〃Who　had　been　beguiledshe　who　was　made　Within　a　gentle　bosom　to　be　laid　To　bless　and　to　be　blessedto　be　heart…bare　To　one　who　found　his　bettered　likeness　there　To　think　for　ever　with　him；　like　a　bride　To　haunt　his　eye；　like　taste　personified　To　double　his　delight；　to　share　his　sorrow；　And　like　a　morning　beam；　wake　to　him　every　morrow？
  I　saw　her　pale；　cold　form　glide　silent　by　me；　dead　to　shame　as　to　pity。　　Still　I　seemed　to　clasp　this　piece　of　witchcraft　to　my　bosom；　this　lifeless　image；　which　was　all　that　was　left　of　my　love；　was　the　only　thing　to　which　my　sad　heart　clung。　　Were　she　dead；　should　I　not　wish　to　gaze　once　more　upon　her　pallid　features？　　She　is　dead　to　me；　but　what　she　once　was　to　me；　can　never　die！　　The　agony；　the　conflict　of　hope　and　fear；　of　adoration　and　jealousy　is　over；　or　it　would；　ere　long；　have　ended　with　my　life。　　I　am　no　more　lifted　now　to　Heaven；　and　then　plunged　in　the　abyss；　but　I　seem　to　have　been　thrown　from　the　top　of　a　precipice；　and　to　lie　groveling；　stunned；　and　stupefied。　　I　am　melancholy；　lonesome；　and　weaker　than　a　child。　　The　worst　is；　I　have　no　prospect　of　any　alteration　for　the　better：　she　has　cut　off　all　possibility　of　a　reconcilement　at　any　future　period。　　Were　she　even　to　return　to　her　former　pretended　fondness　and　endearments；　I　could　have　no　pleasure；　no　confidence　in　them。　　I　can　scarce　make　out　the　contradiction　to　myself。　　I　strive　to　think　she　always　was　what　I　now　know　she　is；　but　I　have　great　difficulty　in　it；　and　can　hardly　believe　but　she　still　IS　what　she　so　long　SEEMED。　　Poor　thing！　　I　am　afraid　she　is　little　better　off　herself；　nor　do　I　see　what　is　to　become　of　her；　unless　she　throws　off　the　mask　at　once；　and　RUNS　A…MUCK　at　infamy。　　She　is　exposed　and　laid　bare　to　all　those　whose　opinion　she　set　a　value　upon。　　Yet　she　held　her　head　very　high；　and　must　feel　（if　she　feels　any　thing）　proportionably　mortified。A　more　complete　experiment　on　character　was　never　made。　　If　I　had　not　met　her　lover　immediately　after　I　parted　with　her；　it　would　have　been　nothing。　　I　might　have　supposed　she　had　changed　her　mind　in　my　absence；　and　had　given　him　the　preference　as　soon　as　she　felt　it；　and　even　shewn　her　delicacy　in　declining　any　farther　intimacy　with　me。　　But　it　comes　out　that　she　had　gone　on　in　the　most　forward　and　familiar　way　with　both　at　once（she　could　not　change　her　mind　in　passing　from　one　room　to　another）told　both　the　same　barefaced　and　unblushing　falsehoods；　like　the　commonest　creature；　received　presents　from　me　to　the　very　last；　and　wished　to　keep　up　the　game　still　longer；　either　to　gratify　her　humour；　her　avarice；　or　her　vanity　in　playing　with　my　passion；　or　to　have　me　as　a　dernier　resort；　in　case　of　accidents。　　Again；　it　would　have　been　nothing；　if　she　had　not　come　up　with　her　demure；　well…composed；　wheedling　looks　that　morning；　and　then　met　me　in　the　evening　in　a　situation；　which　（she　believed）　might　kill　me　on　the　spot；　with　no　more　feeling　than　a　common　courtesan　shews；　who　BILKS　a　customer；　and　passes　him；　leering　up　at　her　bully；　the　moment　after。　　If　there　had　been　the　frailty　of　passion；　it　would　have　been　excusable；　but　it　is　evident　she　is　a　practised；　callous　jilt；　a　regular　lodging…house　decoy；　played　off　by　her　mother　upon　the　lodgers；　one　after　another；　applying　them　to　her　different　purposes；　laughing　at　them　in　turns；　and　herself　the　probable　dupe　and　victim　of　some　favourite　gallant　in　the　end。　　I　know　all　this；　but　what　do　I　gain　by　it；　unless　I　could　find　some　one　with　her　shape　and　air；　to　supply　the　place　of　the　lovely　apparition？　　That　a　professed　wanton　should　come　and　sit　on　a　man's　knee；　and　put　her　arms　round　his　neck；　and　caress　him；　and　seem　fond　of　him；　means　nothing；　proves　nothing；　no　one　concludes　anything　from　it；　but　that　a　pretty；　reserved；　modest；　delicate…looking　girl　should　do　this；　from　the　first　hour　to　the　last　of　your　being　in　the　house；　without　intending　anything　by　it；　is　new；　and；　I　think；　worth　explaining。　　It　was；　I　confess；　out　of　my　calculation；　and　may　be　out　of　that　of　others。　　Her　unmoved　indifference　and　self…possession　all　the　while；　shew　that　it　is　her　constant　practice。　　Her　look　even；　if　closely　examined；　bears　this　interpretation。　　It　is　that　of　studied　hypocrisy　or　startled　guilt；　rather　than　of　refined　sensibility　or　conscious　innocence。　　〃She　defied　anyone　to　read　her　thoughts？〃　she　once　told　me。　　〃Do　they　then　require　concealing？〃　I　imprudently　asked　her。　　The　command　over　herself　is　surprising。　　She　never　once　betrays　herself　by　any　momentary　forgetfulness；　by　any　appearance　of　triumph　or　superiority　to　the　person　who　is　her　dupe；　by　any　levity　of　manner　in　the　plenitude　of　her　success；　it　is　one　faultless；　undeviating；　consistent；　consummate　piece　of　acting。　　Were　she　a　saint　on　earth；　she　could　not　seem　more　like　one。　　Her　hypocritical　high…flown　pretensions；　indeed；　make　her　the　worse：　but　still　the　ascendancy　of　her　will；　her　determined　perseverance　in　what　she　undertakes　to　do；　has　something　admirable　in　it；　approaching　to　the　heroic。　　She　is　certainly　an　extraordinary　girl！　　Her　retired　manner；　and　invariable　propriety　of　behaviour　made　me　think　it　next　to　impossible　she　could　grant　the　same　favours　indiscriminately　to　every　one　that　she　did　to　me。　　Yet　this　now　appears　to　be　the　fact。　　She　must　have　done　the　very　same　with　C；　invited　him　into　the　house　to　carry　on　a　closer　intrigue　with　her；　and　then　commenced　the　double　game　with　both　together。　　She　always　〃despised　looks。〃　　This　was　a　favourite　phrase　with　her；　and　one　of　the　hooks　which　she　baited　for　me。　　Nothing　could　win　her　but　a　man's　behaviour　and　sentiments。　　Besides；　she　could　never　like　anothershe　was　a　martyr　to　disappointed　affectionand　friendship　was　all　she　could　even　extend　to　any　other　man。　　All　the　time；　she　was　making　signals；　playing　off　her　pretty　person；　and