"The apprehension of a miscarriage, obliged me to confine
myself to my apartment near a fortnight; but I wrote to my uncle's
friend for money, promising 'to call on him, and explain my situation,
when I was well enough to go out; mean time I earnestly intreated
him, not to mention my place of abode to any one, lest my
husband--such the law considered him--should disturb the mind he
could not conquer. I mentioned my intention of setting out for
Lisbon, to claim my uncle's protection, the moment my health
would permit.'
"The tranquillity however, which I was recovering, was soon
interrupted. My landlady came up to me one day, with eyes swollen
with weeping, unable to utter what she was commanded to say. She
declared, 'That she was never so miserable in her life; that she
must appear an ungrateful monster; and that she would readily go
down on her knees to me, to intreat me to forgive her, as she had
done to her husband to spare her the cruel task.' Sobs prevented
her from proceeding, or answering my impatient enquiries, to know
what she meant.
"When she became a little more composed, she took a newspaper
out of her pocket, declaring, 'that her heart smote her, but what
could she do?--she must obey her husband.
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