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who has a good deal to do in the story, and always appears with excellent effect—and who is, we cannot doubt, a complete portrait -bave ridden to London from Lord Launceston's villa at Cheshunt, on purpose, after some interval spent in the country, to pay a morning visit to Lady Herbert Leslie. She had gone to Kensington Gardens, and they follow her :
* The beauty of the day appeared to have enticed all London to the spot; the principal walk was thronged with pedestrians, while the riders, drawn up in rows outside, were showing off their horses and persons, and flirting with their gaily bonneted acquaintances within ; every creature, in short, seemed to be there, except the one whom they sought. “Let us go back by some quieter walk," said Sir Henry, “ for I declare the crowd and the pretty ladies have made my old head quite giddy.” They accordingly struck down a less frequented and more shady part of the garden, and had again nearly reached the gate, when Trevelyan's eagerly searching eye discovered two persons on a seat at some little distance, apparently engaged in very interesting conversation, for the eyes of the one were fixed on the ground, while those of the other were riveted on the countenance of his fair companion. Trevelyan's fears instantly told him it was Theresa !—and Lascelles !-and they told him but too truly.
So painful a feeling of apprehension shot through his heart at this sight, that he shrank from immediately pointing out to Sir Henry the object of their hitherto anxious search; but keeping his eyes fixed upon her, he directed their steps towards the spot. On a sudden he saw Theresa start from her seat, and look eagerly around her, evidently wishing for the approach of some other person. As her eyes quickly darted in every direction, they at last fell upon Trevelyan, and instantly recognising him, she sprang towards him with an almost audible exclamation of joy. Her face was unusually suffused with colour, but whether owing to any extraordinary agitation, or to the quick pace at which she had joined them, and pleasure at thus unexpectedly meeting her father's old friend, Trevelyan could not tell; but he gazed on her expressive countenance with even more than usual interest.
• Her reception of Sir Henry was most cordial. She made the kindest inquiries after Lady Williams; recalled to his memory their former jokes, and talked with such feeling of “ dear Richmond,” that the warm-hearted old soldier was in raptures. But still, to Trevelyan, who read her every look and feeling, there was such a degree of strange agitation in her manner, that he felt sure something unusual had happened to discompose her. As soon as these first expressions of pleasure at meeting were over, Theresa, after casting an anxious look towards the bench she had lately quitted and which was now empty-went close up to Trevelyan, and putting her arm within his, she said in a low voice, “Let me remain with you till I find Mrs.
Lindsay; she cannot, I am sure, be far off.” Trevelyan again looked anxiously in her face, as if wishing to make those inquiries with his eyes which he could hardly venture upon with his tongue. Again a crimson blush covered her cheeks, which had a minute before been deadly pale. “Lady Herbert,” said he to her, in a low voice, “ are you not well ? — has anything particular distressed you?” " Oh, no, nothing,” said she ; endeavouring, though in vain, to assume a careless manner. “Nothing—a mere trifle, but,”—and she hesitated—but Lascelles was talking nonsense to me just nowand at the moment I was rather out of sorts with him. But it is not worth mentioning and I shall take care to let him know such persiflage does not please me, whatever it may others—and that it is never to be repeated.” Trevelyan again looked at her with increased distress and aların. “ Don't scold me just now,” said she, in a still more agitated voice, “ for I am at this minute so nervous, I don't know what effect a word, or even a look from you, might have upon me; only, for heaven's sake, do not leave me till I have found Mrs. Lindsay. And don't be so frightened; for see,” added she, with a strange wild smile on her face, " you need be in no alarm about me; there is my talisman safe,”—and she pointed to his bracelet on her wrist.'-vol. iii., p. 66-71.
The fifth act is thorough tragedy. Lady Herbert, Trevelyan being out of town, is left completely o her husband's neglect, Mr. Lascelles' attentions, and her own devices. Accompanying Mrs. Lindsay and Mr. Lascelles one night to Vauxball, she perceives her lord walking arm-in-arm with her own French maid; and this confirmation of all her worst suspicions influences her in a way that is, probably, intended to bespeak her intimate acquaintance with the manners and feelings of the country for which the Code Napoléon had shortly before been drawn up. That code, we need hardly say, while preserving all the ancient strictness of the canon law as to female transgressions, limits the wife's plea of divorce on the score of infidelity to cases of offence' sous le toit marital ;' but Theresa felt the insult now inflicted on her with a bitterness which perhaps no English wife ever wanted the sanction of a legislative distinction to warrant. The audacious Lascelles is with her at the moment; he profits by the occasion; and, in a few minutes, they are shut up together in a post-chaise on the Great North Road.
Now comes the real crisis of Theresa's fate. She has all but lost everything. Two stages from London she breathes more freely, and fancies that it is not yet too late for her : she springs out of the carriage-locks herself up-and at last succeeds in satisfying Lascelles that she will see him no more:-he, in rage, in phrenzy, departs, and Theresa is alone-degraded for ever by what she has already done—deserted by all the world, a wretched,
bewildered, bewildered, more than half frantic outcast in a country inn! To whom shall she turn? what friend can she appeal to now? is there any hope for her, near as she had been to worse than all that poor Olivia Primrose had to think of, when that fair desolate sung those never to be forgotten stanzas :
• When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What art can wash her guilt away ?
To hide her shame from every eye,
And wring his bosom—is to die.' - Theresa calls on Trevelyan, and he is soon bending over the couch of her anguish, despair, and mortal illness. We shall not dwell on the terrible miseries of these scenes. Theresa, whose first agonies are mixed up with some gleams of pride, founded on the belief that after all she has stopped short of actual guilt, is at length recalled by Trevelyan to some juster notions of what guilt is; and a burst of the most disarming humility succeeds. Even Leslie, who has at length, on Lord Launceston's repeated applications to him, arrived at the scene of her now hopeless sufferings, is for a moment subdued and overwhelmed with a sense of his own unworthy treatment having been the cause of all her errors and all her miseries ; but the spark of life is at its last flicker before he approaches.
'Trevelyan, drawing aside the curtain, as he leant over her, addressed Theresa by her name; but she did not move or speak, · Lady Herbert," he repeated in a firmer voice, “ would you see your husband if he were to come ?" Still no answer, and her eyes remained closed; but by the restless motion of her hand, which was lying at her side, it was evident it was not sleep which thus benumbed her faculties. Again Trevelyan spoke to her. " Theresa, your husband is come; will you not see him ?" But again his words were totally unheeded; and Trevelyan, turning towards Lord Herbert, cast on him an involuntary look of reproach as the cause of the melancholy spectacle before them. It was one which appalled and roused even the hardened libertine: he approached the bed, looked at Theresa for a minute aghast, and then in a low, tremulous voice addressed her by an endearing appellation once familiar to her ears, That name-that voice—the voice of him who had been the object of her youthful passion, at once penetrated through the mist of fever and the stupor of debility. She raised her head from the pillow, and gazing wildly at her husband—“It is he! It is Herbert himself!" she exclaimed with an hysterical scream, and burst into one of those dreadful fits of laughter occasioned by over-wrought feelings on an exhausted frame. It was Trevelyan's arm which then supported the poor convulsed Theresa! It was his hand which chafed her clammy temples, for, horror-struck at the sight before him, a feeling of remorse seemed, for a minute, totally to overpower Lord Herbert, and he stood motionless, gazing on his victim. Her hysteric cries by degrees subsided, and when sufficiently recovered to be again aware of the presence of him, the sight of whom had so violently affected her, Lord Herbert again spoke to her. “ Theresa !” said he, in a low subdued tone, will you forget the past? Can you forgive me?" “Forgive you !” she exclaimed, a ray of light appearing for an in. stant to illume her countenance, and a flush of joy to tinge her faded cheek-" Oh! dear, dear Herbert !” and throwing herself forward, she fell nearly senseless on his breast. For a moment Lord Herbert seemed moved to tenderness; he pressed her to his heart, and kissed her pale face; but as her feeble hands—unable to retain their holdfell powerless from his neck, which they had clasped, he disengaged himself from her arms, and laying her head on the pillow, gradually withdrew his hand from her grasp.'--yol. iii. p. 187.
The same evening, Theresa having rallied a little, and being apparently more calm than she had hitherto been, Trevelyan again enters her room.
• He sat down by the bed-side, and, after watching her for a few minutes in silence, encouraged by the calm collected expression of her countenance, " Theresa !” said be, in a tremulous voice, “now that you have had time for reflection, and are reconciled to your husband, is there not another with whom you would wish to be at peace?”— " Another! whom?” said she, wildly ; " what do you mean?"-" I mean, that surely you must wish to be at peace with yourself—with your God!” She started from her pillow, with a degree of nervous energy of which he had scarcely thought her enfeebled body capable, and, looking him fixedly in the face—“What do you mean?" she again repeated, “is it really then as I have fancied ?--am I dying ?” and her whole frame trembled with agitation as she spoke. “Calm yourself, dearest,” said Trevelyan,-his own voice and manner at the moment little according with the injunction he gave; “I did not talk of dying. But would nothing except the approach of death make you wish to be reconciled to your best friend-to your benefactor ?” Theresa appeared scarcely to heed, or, indeed, to comprehend him, her thoughts being wholly occupied by the first impression which they had received.
"" It is hard to die so young!” she murmured, “and when Herbert is again kind to me—when I might again be so happy !—to leave all!”_" Has this world afforded you so much of enjoyment, Theresa," continued Trevelyan, in a faltering voice, “that you feel such reluctance at the idea of leaving it ?”_"I cannot die now!” she continued ;-" I dare not-I am not prepared for death!” and, shuddering, she closed her eyes, as if to avoid the bewildering recollections which pressed upon her awe-struck mind. “ At all events, if it is
indeed come to this !” she after a minute continued in a wild reckless tone,_" if my doom is fixed, there is no use in forestalling my misery by dwelling on it, as there is nothing left for me now but to meet my fate as boldly as I can; for it is vain to attempt to expiate all my numberless offences; I remember nothing-I can think of nothing, all is confusion !-horrible confusion! I see but a mass of folly, wilful folly, and wickedness, and my mind is totally unequal to recalling the actions of one day-even of one hour!”
We shall not quote any of Trevelyan's religious warnings and consolations. This novelist is, perhaps, more successful in mixing sacred topics with worldly manners and imaginary events than any other that ever tried to do so; and the secret, we believe, is simply that in the whole tone of her own mind, as reflected in her narrative, there is nothing inconsistent with the purest warmth of Christian charity-no trace of that harsh satire, that exulting sarcasm, that bitter mockery, which cause one to revolt in disgust from the fulsome patches of piety occasionally introduced by certain wholesale-dealers in these unevangelical commodities. But still we have grave doubts about the propriety of regular religious lectures in works of this class; and, though we admit that some such passages diversify these pages without producing any painful sense of incongruity, we are of opinion that a few very brief hints would have answered the writer's purpose better; and that in every case, and for a thousand reasons, the conversion of the novel, like the murder of the drama, ought to occur behind the scenes.
"A bright smile of former days for an instant flashed across Theresa's altered features, the feeble hand, pressed in Trevelyan's, moved as if struggling for liberty. “Pray for me-help me," she faintly murmured, and clasped her hands together. Trevelyan sank on his knees at the bed-side and prayed aloud, Theresa the while appearing to be attentively following every word he uttered. He prayed long and fervently, and still her lips moved, still her languid eyes were raised to heaven, while tears stole slowly down her cheeks; but insensibly her hands unclasped and sank motionless on the bed. Trevelyan gazed on her with fearful agony; there was still a pulse, but it was like the last flare of an expiring flame, and her breath came quick and short.
At that minute Trevelyan heard footsteps behind him, and, turning hastily round, he beheld Lord Herbert standing at the door, uncertain whether to enter. Trevelyan made a sign to him to approach. “ Is she worse?” he inquired, with a look of horror, on observing Theresa's altered countenance, “Has she mentioned me?" Trevelyan did not answer, indeed did not appear even to hear him, and continued in silent anguislı, straining his eyes to catch every remaining symptom of animation. In a minute or two Theresa