Night after night I have washed the memory of my want
of duty to my father with bitter tears; but my husband was dear to
me--he was more precious than my life! One affectionate look from
him, one fond word, would solace every pain, and make me wait the
arrival of his father's letter with all the sanguine anticipations of
youth and love.
"A fortnight passed away. A month--a long and lingering month.
Another month, and a packet of letters was presented to Sackville. He
was conversing with us. At sight of the superscription, he tore open
the paper, ran his eyes over a few lines, and then, flushed and
agitated, started from his seat and left the room. My emotions were
almost uncontrollable. I had already half risen from my chair to
follow him, when the palatine exclaimed, 'What can be in that letter?
Too plainly I see some afflicting tidings.' And without observing me,
or waiting for a reply, he hurried out after him. I hastened to my
chamber, where, throwing myself on my bed, I tried, by all the
delusions of hope, to obtain some alleviation from the pangs of my
suspense.
"The dinner-bell roused me from my reverie. Dreading to excite
suspicion, and anxious to read in the countenance of my husband the
denunciation of our fate, I obeyed the summons and descended to the
dining-room. On entering it, my eyes irresistibly wandered round to
fix themselves on Sackville.
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