It then became Rosilia's turn to offer the language of sympathy and consolation. Oriana replied to her anxious inquiries concerning Philimore in a style calculated to surprise and pain her beyond measure.
"If I have not," said she, "written to you upon the subject of my grief, it was because I feared my letter might fall into the hands of our parents. Oh! Rosilia, you can form no idea of the sufferings, the pangs that Philimore has overwhelmed me with; his affection for me is wholly withdrawn; he has ceased to write to me; my name has become odious to him; if, as my friend Miss Morris informs me, I by chance am ever mentioned in his presence, his countenance assumes an expression of gloomy displeasure, too striking to escape notice."
"I have myself," replied Rosilia, "witnessed such a conduct in him, but never could suppose it proceeded from what you say. But why!—what proof have you that he is influenced by inconstancy?"
"How else am I to attribute," continued Oriana, "the excessive coldness, apathy, and indifference towards me, into which he has fallen. May Heaven, Rosilia, shield you from the misery he has caused me to undergo—so cruelly, so barbarously, has he acted towards me!"
Mortification, disappointment, and indignation, were by turns manifested in the speech of Oriana, as she continued to paint to her sister the blighted hopes, withered prospects, and severe wounds her heart had sustained. Philimore was then in London,
