“Each widow to her secret friend alone
Whisper’d;—thus treated, he had had his own.”
Mr. Bolingbroke waited with impatience for Griselda’s appearance the next morning; but he waited in vain: the lady breakfasted in her own apartment, and for two hours afterwards remained in close consultation with Mrs. Nettleby, whom she had summoned the preceding night by the following note:
“I have been prevented from spending this evening with you, my
dearest Mrs. Nettleby, by the strangest conduct imaginable: am
sure you will not believe it when I tell it to you. Come to me, I
conjure you, as early to-morrow as you possibly can, that I may
explain to you all that has passed, and consult as to the future.
My dearest friend, I never was so much in want of an adviser. Ever
yours,
“GRISELDA.”
At this consultation, Mrs. Nettleby expressed the utmost astonishment at Mr. Bolingbroke’s strange conduct, and assured Griselda, that if she did not exert herself, all was lost, and she must give up the hope of ever having her own way again as long as she lived.
“My dear,” said she, “I have had some experience in these things; a wife must be either a tyrant or a slave: make your choice; now is your time.”
“But I never knew him say or do any thing unkind before,” said Griselda.
“Then the first offence should be properly resented. If he finds you forgiving, he will become encroaching; ‘tis the nature of man, depend upon it.”
“He always yielded to me till now,” said Griselda; “but even when I was ready to go into fits, he left me, and what could I do then?”
“You astonish me beyond expression! you who have every advantage—youth, wit, accomplishments, beauty! My dear, if you cannot keep a husband’s heart, who can ever hope to succeed?”
“Oh! as to his heart, I have no doubts of his heart, to do him justice,” said Griselda; “I know he loves me—passionately loves me.”