“Agitated by a daily and hourly exposure to the importunities of Charles; insulted by the suspicions which the insinuations of Buckingham had excited in the minds of her companions; friendless—Helpless—hopeless—dreading that she might be betrayed by her ignorance of the world into some unforeseen evil, and knowing that even in the event of Percy's return, her engagement with him must long remain unfulfilled, the unhappy girl naturally looked upon her union with me as the only deliverance from the assailing misfortunes; and in an hour of desperation she gave me her hand. That her strongest efforts of mind had been exerted, from the moment of her marriage, to banish all remembrance of her former lover I firmly believe. The letter acquainting him with the breach of faith which her miserable destiny seemed to render inevitable, had never reached him, and happily, alas! how happily for him, his last earthly thoughts were permitted to rest on Theresa, as his beloved and affianced wife. I am persuaded that had he returned in safety to his native country, she would have avoided his society as studiously as she did that of the king; and that had she been spared the blow which deprived her of reason, her dutiful regard, and in time her devoted affection, would have been mine as firmly, as through the vows which gave them to my hopes and been untainted by any former passion. As it was, we were both victims. I, to her misfortunes—she through the brutality of the king.
“It appeared to me that on our return to court after our ill-fated union, the king had for some time refrained from his former insulting importunities; and had merely distressed Lady Greville by indulging in a mockery of respectful deference, which exposed her to the ridicule of those around her who could not fail to observe his change of manner. Perceiving by my unconstrained expressions of grateful acknowledgment for his furtherance of my marriage with Theresa that she had kept his secret, and incapable of appreciating that purity of mind, which rendered such an avowal difficult, even to her husband; and that prudence which foresaw the evils resulting to both from such a disclosure, he drew false inferences from her discretion, and gradually resumed his former levities. Nor was this the only evil with which she had now to contend. Some malicious enemy had profited by her absences to poison the mind of the queen, with jealous suspicions of her favourite, and to inspire her with belief, that Miss Marchmont's propriety of demeanour in public, had only been a successful mask of private indiscretion; and that Charles had not been an unsuccessful lover.
“Unwilling to confide to me the difficulties by which she was assailed, unable alone to steer among the rocks that impeded her course, Theresa at length adopted the bold measure of confiding her whole tale to her royal mistress; whose knowledge of the king's infidelities was already too accurate to admit of an increase of affliction from this new proof; and on receiving a letter from the avowed friend of her husband—the grateful patron of her dead father—the august Father of his people, containing the most insolent declarations of passion, she vindicated her innocence by placing it in the hands of the Queen; at the same time entreating permission that her further services might be dispersed with. Her Majesty's reply, equally gratifying and affectionate, you have already seen; and it was in savage and unmanly revenge towards Theresa, for the frankness and decision of her conduct, that the king had directed his favorite to enclose me that letter whose sudden perusal had wrought the destruction of my unhappy wife. You will easily conceive that the terms of my answer to the Duke of Buckingham were those of unmeasured indignation—yet he, the parasite, the ready instrument of royal vice, and the malignant associate of Charles in his last act of premeditated cruelty, suffered the accusations of the injured husband to pass unnoticed and unrepelled; and I am persuaded that nothing but the dread of exposure prevented me from feeling the full abuse of the power of the crown by the master I had served with so much fidelity and affection. I have never since that period held direct or indirect communication with a court where the basest treachery had been my only reward.
“For many months the paroxysms of Lady Greville's distemper were so violent as to require the strictest confinement; and the medical man who attended her assured me that when this state of irritation should subside, she would either be restored entirely to the full exercise of her mental faculties, or be plunged into a state of apathy, of tranquil but confirmed dejection, from which, although it might not affect her bodily health, she would never recover. How anxiously did I watch for this crisis of her disorder! and yet at times I scarcely wished her to awake to a keener sense of her afflictions; for being incapable of recognising my person in my frequent visits to her chamber, I have heard her address me in her wanderings for pardon and pity. 'Forgive me, Greville, forgive me,' she would say. 'Remember how forlorn a wretch I shall become, when thou too, like the rest, shalt abandon and persecute me. Am I not thy wedded wife, and as faithful as I am miserable! am I not the mother of thy child? and yet I know not;—for I seek my poor infant, and they will not, will not, give it to me—tell me,' she whispered with a ghastly smile, 'have they buried it in the raging sea with him whom I must not name?'
“The decisive moment arrived; and Lady Greville's insanity was, in the opinion of her physicians and attendants, confirmed for life. She relapsed into that state of composed but decided aberration of mind, in which she still remains. I soon observed that my presence alone appeared to retain the power of irritating her feelings; and she seemed to shrink instinctively from every person with whom she had been in habits of intercourse previous to her misfortune. I therefore consigned this helpless sufferer to the charge of the nurse of my own infancy, Alice Wishart; whom, from her constant residence at the Cross, Lady Greville had never seen.
“This trustworthy woman, and her husband, who was also an hereditary retainer of our house, willingly devoted themselves to the melancholy service required; and hateful as Silsea had now become to my feelings, I broke up in part my establishment and became a restless and unhappy wanderer, seeking, in vain, oblivion of the past, or hope for the future. Would to God I had possessed sufficient fortitude to remain chained to the isolation of my miserable home! for then had we never met; and thou, my Helen, wouldst have escaped this hour of shame and sorrow.”
CHAPTER IV.
“Courteous Lord—one word—
Sir, you and I have lov'd—but that's not it—
Sir, you and I must part.”—ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA
“Hitherto I have had to dwell in my recitation on the vices and frailties of my brothers of the dust, and to describe myself as an innocent sufferer; but I now approach a period of my life, from the mention of which I shrink with well-grounded apprehensions. Yet judge me with candour; remember the strength of the temptation through which I erred; and divesting yourself, if possible, of the recollection of your own injuries, moderate your resentment against an unfortunate being, who for many long years of his existence has not enjoyed one easy hour.