A celebrated traveller in the Alps advises people to imagine themselves walking amidst precipices, when they are safe upon smooth ground; and he assures them that by this practice they may inure themselves so to the idea of danger, as to prevent all sense of it in the most perilous situations.
The four-and-twenty hours passed; and at the appointed moment our heroine and her husband met. As she entered the room, she observed that he held a book in his hand, but was not reading: he put it down, rose deliberately, and placed a chair for her, in silence.
“I thank you, I would rather stand,” said she: he put aside the chair, and walked to a door at the other end of the room, to examine whether there was any one in the adjoining apartment.
“It is not necessary that what we have to say should be overheard by servants,” said he.
“I have no objection to being overheard,” said Griselda: “I have nothing to say of which I am ashamed; and all the world must know it soon.”
As Mr. Bolingbroke returned towards her, she examined his countenance with an inquisitive eye. It was expressive of concern; grave, but calm.
Whoever has seen a balloon—the reader, however impatient, must listen to this allusion—whoever has seen a balloon, may have observed that in its flaccid state it can be folded and unfolded with the greatest ease, and it is manageable even by a child; but when once filled, the force of multitudes cannot restrain, nor the art of man direct its course. Such is the human mind—so tractable before, so ungovernable after it fills with passion. By slow degrees, unnoticed by our heroine, the balloon had been filling. It was full; but yet it was held down by strong cords: it remained with her to cut or not to cut them.
“Reflect before you speak, my dear Griselda,” said her husband; “consider that on the words which you are going to pronounce depend your fate and mine.”
“I have reflected sufficiently,” said she, “and decide, Mr. Bolingbroke—to part.”
“Be it so!” cried he; fire flashed from his eyes; he grew red and pale in an instant. “Be it so,” repeated he, in an irrevocable voice—“We part for ever!”