Chapter ix. — A very tragic scene.
The clock had struck eleven, and Amelia was just proceeding to put her children to bed, when she heard a knock at the street-door; upon which the boy cried out, “There’s papa, mamma; pray let me stay and see him before I go to bed.” This was a favour very easily obtained; for Amelia instantly ran down-stairs, exulting in the goodness of her husband for returning so soon, though half an hour was already elapsed beyond the time in which he promised to return.
Poor Amelia was now again disappointed; for it was not her husband at the door, but a servant with a letter for him, which he delivered into her hands. She immediately returned up-stairs, and said—“It was not your papa, my dear; but I hope it is one who hath brought us some good news.” For Booth had told her that he hourly expected to receive such from the great man, and had desired her to open any letter which came to him in his absence.
Amelia therefore broke open the letter, and read as follows:
“SIR,—After what hath passed between us, I need only tell you that I know you supped this very night alone with Miss Matthews: a fact which will upbraid you sufficiently, without putting me to that trouble, and will very well account for my desiring the favour of seeing you to-morrow in Hyde-park at six in the morning. You will forgive me reminding you once more how inexcusable this behaviour is in you, who are possessed in your own wife of the most inestimable jewel.
“Yours, &c.
“T. JAMES.
“I shall bring pistols with me.”
It is not easy to describe the agitation of Amelia’s mind when she read this letter. She threw herself into her chair, turned as pale as death, began to tremble all over, and had just power enough left to tap the bottle of wine, which she had hitherto preserved entire for her husband, and to drink off a large bumper.