book, whilst in truth his mind was far absent from its contents, ruminating over his sorrows,—those of Oriana,—the unhappy lot to which he had reduced her, so forcibly described in those letters, the tender anxiety for his health, and apprehensions of his lost affections, had drawn from her pen.
In his self-condemnation, Oriana had borne her share, for the yielding disposition she had shown him; but though, no longer accusing her of favouring Valpée, she was comparatively restored to his favourable estimation, yet how could he renew his correspondence, and answer her letters in the manner she wished?—having already discouraged her affections, how could he persuade himself to revive hopes which would assuredly prove fallacious? It was a consideration of moment, and the reflection he gave to it decidedly marked out the plan he should in future adopt, but which, if carried into effect, must indeed harrow up his soul; and hence he invoked the Deity for strength and resolution to enable him with consistency to pursue it.
Feeling as he did a deep sense of compassion for the situation of Oriana, brought upon her by himself, dire necessity urged him to the dreadful sacrifice of extinguishing in her breast the love she bore him; he must endeavour to persevere in that cruel coldness he had already shown; by an affected indifference he must give rise in her to a supposition of his inconstancy, and unworthiness of being linked with her in the bonds of conjugal union! Dictated by such dark,
