culated on continuing her literary exertions during the time she should be away, and how she allowed herself no rest while she had a duty to others to discharge. Each of these engagements, in her new position in life, would help her to accomplish one of the first wishes of her heart. "How much shall I write in three years!" was her exclamation to us;—for it should be stated, that her stay in Africa was expressly limited to three years, unless her own choice, at the end of that term, decided otherwise. It must also be observed, that her husband left all her literary arrangements, and the income arising from them, entirely in her own hands. She was unshackled by any stipulation whatever.
This feeling of independence, and the hope founded on it of ensuring independence to another, gave no slight colouring of happiness to her future prospects. There still remained some nervous fears about the climate (discovered to be, in her case, groundless on her arrival), but these were checked, as much as possible, by the reflection that she should be free to return in three years. About to part, she felt at peace with all, and enjoyed the confidence that her character would outlive all calumnies. To this must be added, the comfort derived from the reflection, that not one word had been uttered to her prejudice up to this hour that was not distinctly known to her husband. With every calumny, every report "however cruel and untrue" (to use her own expression), Mr. Maclean had been made acquainted; there was no concealment of anything on her side; and on his, just as little concealment of the honourable spirit in which he disregarded scandal.
The warmth of her affection for the lady with
