‘And she
Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.’
When they parted in 1809, that was exactly Mary’s age.
‘Her eye was large and dark, suppressing half its fire until she spoke. Her glossy hair was clustered over a brow bright with intelligence. Her cheek was purple with the beam of youth, mounting at times to a transparent glow; and she had an uncommon grace of manner. She was tall of stature. Her husband was a good-looking man, neither much loved nor disliked. He was of a jealous nature, though he did not show it. They lived together, as most people do, suffering each other’s foibles.’
On a summer’s eve in the month of June, Juan and Julia met:
‘How beautiful she looked! her conscious heart
Glowed in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong.’
For her husband she had honour, virtue, truth, and love. The sun had set, and the yellow moon arose high in the heavens:
‘There is a dangerous silence in that hour,
A stillness which leaves room for the full soul.’
Several weeks had passed away:
‘Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds,—
Alfonso’s loves with Inez were well known.’
Then came the parting note: