Nettleby was in one of his obstinate fits, and could not be brought to listen to the scheme so near her heart: "He would have nothing to do, he said, with settling the terms of Mr. and Mrs. Bolingbroke's separation, not he!--He absolutely refuses to meddle between man and wife; and calls it meddling," continued Mrs. Nettleby, "to receive you as an inmate, after you have parted from your husband. Mr.

Bolingbroke, he says, has always been very civil to him, and came to see him in town; therefore he will not encourage Mrs. Bolingbroke in her tantarums. I represented to him, that Mr. B. desires the thing, and leaves the choice of a residence to yourself: but Mr. Nettleby replied, in his brutal way, that you might choose a residence where you would, except in his house; that his house was his castle, and should never be turned into an asylum for runagate wives; that he would not set such an example to his own wife, &c. But," continued Mrs. Nettleby, "you can imagine all the foolish things he said, and I need not repeat them, to vex you and myself. I know that he refuses to receive you, my dear Mrs. Bolingbroke, on purpose to provoke me. But what can one do or say to such a man?--Adieu, my dear. Pray write when you are at leisure, and tell me how things are settled, or rather what is settled upon you; which, to be sure, is now the only thing that you have to consider.

"Ever yours, affectionately,

"R. H. NETTLEBY.

"P.S. Before you leave Devonshire, do, my dear, get me some of the fine Devonshire lace; three or four dozen yards will do. I trust implicitly to your taste. You know I do not mind the price; only let it be broad, for narrow lace is my aversion."

CHAPTER XVIII.

"Lost is the dear delight of giving pain!"

Mortified by her dear friend's affectionate letter and postscript, Griselda was the more determined to persist in her resolution to defy her husband to the utmost. The catastrophe, she thought, would always be in her own power; she recollected various separation scenes in novels and plays where the lady, after having tormented her husband or lover by every species of ill conduct, reforms in an instant, and a reconciliation is effected by some miraculous means. Our heroine had seen Lady Townley admirably well acted, and doubted not that she could now perform her part victoriously. With this hope, or rather in this confidence, she went in search of Mr. Bolingbroke. He was not in the house; he had gone out to take a solitary walk. Griselda hoped that she was the object of his reflections, during his lonely ramble.

"Yes," said she to herself, "my power is not exhausted: I shall make his heart ache yet; and when he yields, how I will revenge myself!"

She rang for her woman, and gave orders to have every thing immediately prepared for her departure. "As soon as the trunks are packed, let them be corded, and placed in the great hall," said she.

Our heroine, who had a happy memory, full well recollected the effect which the sight of the corded trunks produced in the "Simple Story,"

and she thought the stroke so good that it would bear repet.i.tion. With malice prepense, she therefore prepared the blow, which she flattered herself could not fail to astound her victim. Her pride still revolted from the idea of consulting Mrs. Granby; but some apology was requisite for thus abruptly quitting her house. Mrs. Bolingbroke began in a tone that seemed intended to preclude all discussion.

"Mrs. Granby, do you know that Mr. Bolingbroke and I have come to a resolution to be happy the rest of our lives; and, for this purpose, we find it expedient to separate. Do not start or look so shocked, my dear. This word separation may sound terrible to some people, but I have, thank Heaven! sufficient strength of mind to hear it with perfect composure. When a couple who are chained together pull different ways, the sooner they break their chain the better. I shall set out immediately for Weymouth. You will excuse me, my dear Mrs.

Granby; you see the necessity of the case."

Mrs. Granby, with the most delicate kindness, began to expostulate; but Griselda declared that she was incapable of using a friend so ill as to pretend to listen to advice, when her mind was determined irrevocably. Emma had no intention, she said, of obtruding her advice, but she wished that Mrs. Bolingbroke would give her own excellent understanding time to act, and that she would not throw away the happiness of her life in a fit of pa.s.sion. Mrs. Bolingbroke protested that she never was freer from pa.s.sion of every sort than she was at this moment. With an unusually placid countenance, she turned from Mrs. Granby and sat down to the piano-forte. "We shall not agree if I talk any more upon this subject," continued she, "therefore I had better sing. I believe my music is better than my logic: at all events I prefer music."

In a fine _bravura_ style Griselda then began to sing--

"What have I to do with thee, Dull, unjoyous constancy?" &c.

And afterwards she played all her gayest airs to convince Mrs. Granby that her heart was quite at ease. She continued playing for an unconscionable time, with the most provoking perseverance.

Emma stood at the window, watching for Mr. Bolingbroke's return.

"Here comes Mr. Bolingbroke!--How melancholy he looks!--Oh, my dear Griselda," cried she, stopping Mrs. Bolingbroke's hand as it ran gaily over the keys, "this is no time for mirth or bravado: let me conjure you--"

"I hate to be conjured," interrupted Griselda, breaking from her; "I am not a child, to be coaxed and kissed and sugar-plummed into being good, and behaving prettily. Do me the favour to let Mr. Bolingbroke know that I am in the study, and desire to speak to him for one minute."

No power could detain the peremptory lady: she took her way to the study, and rejoiced as she crossed the hall, to see the trunks placed as she had ordered. It was impossible that her husband could avoid seeing them the moment he should enter the house.--What a satisfaction!--Griselda seated herself at ease in an arm-chair in the study, and took up a book which lay open on the table. Mr.

Bolingbroke's pencil-case was in it, and the following pa.s.sage was marked:

"Il y a un lieu sur la terre ou les joies pures sont inconnues; d'ou la politesse est exilee et fait place a l'egoisme, a la contradiction, aux injures a demivoilees; le remords et l'inquietude, furies infatigables, y tourmentent les habitans. Ce lieu est la maison de deux epoux qui ne peuvent ni s'estimer, ni s'aimer.

"Il y a un lieu sur la terre ou le vice ne s'introduit pas, ou les pa.s.sions tristes n'ont jamais d'empire, ou le plaisir et l'innocence habitent toujours ensemble, ou les soins sont chers, ou les travaux sont doux, ou les peines s...o...b..ient dans les entretiens, ou l'on jouit du pa.s.se, du present, de l'avenir; et c'est la maison de deux epoux qui s'aiment."[1]

[Footnote 1: M. de Saint Lambert, Oeuvres Philosophiques, tome ii.]

A pang of remorse seized Griselda, as she read these words; they seemed to have been written on purpose for her. Struck with the sense of her own folly, she paused--she doubted;--but then she thought that she had gone too far to recede. Her pride could not bear the idea of acknowledging that she had been wrong, or of seeking reconcilement.

"I could live very happily with this man; but then to yield the victory to him!--and to reform!--No, no--all reformed heroines are stupid and odious."

CHAPTER XIX.

"And, vanquish'd, quit victoriously the field."

Griselda flung the book from her as her husband entered the room.

"You have had an answer, madam, from your friend, Mrs. Nettleby, I perceive," said he, calmly.

"I have, sir. Family reasons prevent her from receiving me at present; therefore I have determined upon going to Weymouth; where, indeed, I always wished to spend this summer."

Mr. Bolingbroke evinced no surprise, and made not the slightest opposition. Mrs. Bolingbroke was so much vexed, that she could scarcely command her countenance: she bit her lip violently.

"With respect to any arrangements that are to be made, I am to understand that you wish me to address myself to Mr. J. Nettleby,"

said her husband.

"No, to myself, if you please; I am prepared to listen, sir, to whatever you may have to propose."

"These things are always settled best in writing," replied Mr.

Bolingbroke. "Be so obliging as to leave me your direction, and you shall hear from me, or from Mrs. Granby, in a few days."

Mrs. Bolingbroke hastily wrote a direction upon a card, and put it into her husband's hand, with as much unconcern as she could maintain.

Mr. Bolingbroke continued, precisely in the same tone: "If you have any thing to suggest, that may contribute to your future convenience, madam, you will be so good as to leave a memorandum with me, to which I shall attend."

He placed a sheet of paper before Mrs. Bolingbroke, and put a pen into her hand. She made an effort to write, but her hand trembled so that she could not form a letter. Her husband took up Saint Lambert, and read, or seemed to read.--"Open the window, Mr. Bolingbroke," said she. He obeyed, but did not, as formerly, "hang over her enamoured."

He had been so often duped by her fainting-fits and hysterics, that now, when she suffered in earnest, he suspected her of artifice. He took up his book again, and marked a page with his pencil. She wrote a line with a hurried hand, then starting up, flung her pen from her, and exclaimed--"I need not, will not write; I have no request to make to you, Mr. Bolingbroke; do what you will; I have no wishes, no wish upon earth--but to leave you."

"That wish will be soon accomplished, madam," replied he, unmoved.

She pulled the bell till it broke.--A servant appeared.

"My carriage to the door directly, if you please, sir," cried she.

A pause ensued. Griselda sat swelling with unutterable rage.--"Heavens! have you no feeling left?" exclaimed she, s.n.a.t.c.hing the book from his hand; "have you no feeling left, Mr. Bolingbroke, for any thing?"

"You have left me none for some things, Mrs. Bolingbroke, and I thank you. All this would have broken my heart six months ago."

"You have no heart to break," cried she.--The carriage drove to the door.

"One word more, before I leave you for ever, Mr. Bolingbroke,"