'You are at liberty to discharge your servant, when you please, madam.'
'I think it my duty to do so, Mr Montague—not on my own, but on her, account. If I have no claim upon your affection and principles, I would disdain to watch your conduct. But I feel myself attached to this young woman, and would wish to preserve her from destruction!'
'You are very generous, but as you thought fit to bestow on me your hand, when your heart was devoted to another—'
'It is enough, sir!—To your justice, only, in your cooler moments, would I appeal!'
I procured for Rachel a reputable place, in a distant part of the county.—Before she quitted me, I seriously, and affectionately, remonstrated with her on the consequences of her behaviour. She answered me only with tears and blushes.
In vain I tried to rectify the principles, and subdue the cruel prejudices, of my husband. I endeavoured to shew him every mark of affection and confidence. I frequently expostulated with him, upon his conduct, with tears—urged him to respect himself and me—strove to convince him of the false principles upon which he acted—of the senseless and barbarous manner in which he was sacrificing my peace, and his own, to a romantic chimera. Sometimes he would appear, for a moment, melted with my tender and fervent entreaties.
'Would to God!' he would say, with emotion, 'the last six months of my life could be obliterated for ever from my remembrance!'
He was no longer active, and chearful: he would sit, for hours, involved in deep and gloomy silence. When I brought the little Emma, to soften, by her engaging caresses, the anxieties by which his spirits appeared to be overwhelmed, he would gaze wildly upon her—snatch her to his breast—and then, suddenly throwing her from him, rush out of the house; and, inattentive to the duties of his profession, absent himself for days and nights together:—his temper grew, every hour, more furious and unequal.
He by accident, one evening, met the little Augustus, as his nurse was carrying him from my apartment; and, breaking rudely into the room, overwhelmed me with a torrent of abuse and reproaches. I submitted to his injustice with silent grief—my spirits were utterly broken. At times, he would seem to be sensible of the impropriety of his conduct—would execrate himself and entreat my forgiveness;—but quickly relapsed into his accustomed paroxysms, which, from having been indulged, were now become habitual, and uncontroulable. These agitations seemed daily to encrease—all my efforts to regain his confidence—my patient, unremitted, attentions—were fruitless. He shunned me—he appeared, even, to regard me with horror. I wept in silence. The hours which I passed with my children afforded me my only consolation—they became painfully dear to me. Attending to their little sports, and innocent gambols, I forgot, for a moment, my griefs.