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'I have got you a bottle of wine too. And here is a 'clean cloth and a smiling countenance, my dear Will. 'Indeed, I am in unusual good spirits to-night, and I 'have made a promise to the children, which you must 'confirm; I have promised to let them sit up this one 'night to supper with us.-Nay, don't look so serious; 'cast off all uneasy thoughts—I have a present for you 'here-No matter how I came by it.'-At which words, she put eight guineas into his hand, crying, 'Come, my dear Bill, be gay-Fortune will yet be kind to us-at least, let us be happy this night. Indeed, the pleasures 'of many women, during their whole lives, will not amount to my happiness this night, if you will be in เ good humour.'

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Booth fetched a deep sigh, and cried-' How unhappy ' am I, my dear, that I can't sup with you to-night!'

As in the delightful month of June, when the sky is all serene, and the whole face of Nature looks with a pleasing and smiling aspect, suddenly a dark cloud spreads itself over the hemisphere, the sun vanishes from our sight, and every object is obscured by a dark and horrid gloom. So happened it to Amelia; the joy that had enlightened every feature disappeared in a moment; the lustre forsook her shining eyes; and all the little loves that played and wantoned in her cheeks, hung their drooping heads, and with a faint trembling voice, she repeated her husband's words: 'Not sup with me to'night, my dear!'

Indeed, my dear,' answered he, 'I cannot. I need ' not tell you how uneasy it makes me, or that I am as 'much disappointed as yourself; but I am engaged to sup abroad. I have absolutely given my honour; and 'besides, it is on business of importance.'

'My dear,' said she, 'I say no more. I am convinced you would not willingly sup from me. I own it is a

very particular disappointment to me to-night, when I had proposed unusual pleasure; but the same reason which is sufficient to you ought to be so to me.'

Booth made his wife a compliment on her ready compliance, and then asked her, what she intended by giving him that money, or how she came by it?

'I intend, my dear,' said she, 'to give it you; that is 'all. As to the manner in which I came by it, you 'know, Billy, that is not very material. You are well assured I got it by no means which would displease 'you; and, perhaps, another time I may tell you.'

Booth asked no farther questions; but he returned it her, and insisted on her taking all but one guinea, saying, she was the safest treasurer. He then promised her to make all the haste home in his power, and he hoped, he said, to be with her in an hour and half at farthest, and then took his leave.

When he was gone, the poor disappointed Amelia sat down to supper with her children; with whose company she was forced to console herself for the absence of her husband.

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CHAPTER IX.

A very tragic scene.

THE clock had struck eleven, and Amelia was just proceeding to put her children to bed, when she heard a knock at the street-door. Upon which, the boy cried out, There's papa, mamma, pray let me stay and see 'him before I go to bed.' This was a favour very easily obtained; for Amelia instantly ran down stairs, exulting in the goodness of her husband for returning so soon,

though half an hour was already elapsed beyond the time in which he promised to return.

Poor Amelia was now again disappointed; for it was not her husband at the door, but a servant with a letter for him, which he delivered into her hands. She immediately returned up stairs, and said—'It was not your 'papa, my dear; but, I hope, it is one who has brought us some good news.' For Booth had told her, that he hourly expected to receive such from the great man, and had desired her to open any letter which came to him in his absence.

Amelia therefore broke open the letter, and read as follows:

SIR,

After what hath passed between us, I need only tell เ you that I know you supped this very night alone with Miss Matthews: a fact which will upbraid you suffiเ ciently without putting me to that trouble, and will very 'well account for my desiring the favour of seeing you เ to-morrow in Hyde-Park at six in the morning. You 'will forgive me reminding you once more how inex'cusable this behaviour is in you, who are possessed in your own wife of the most inestimable jewel.

'Yours, &c.

'I shall bring pistols with me.'

'T. JAMES.

It is not easy to describe the agitation of Amelia's mind when she read this letter. She threw herself into her chair, turned as pale as death, began to tremble all over, and had just power enough left to tap the bottle of wine, which she had hitherto preserved entire for her husband, and to drink off a large bumper.

The little boy perceived the strange symptoms which appeared in his mother; and, running to her, he cried, 'What's the matter, my dear mamma? you don't look 'well!-No harm hath happened to poor papa, I hope'Sure that bad man hath not carried him away again?'

Amelia answered, 'No, child, nothing-nothing at all.' -And then a large shower of tears came to her assistance; which presently after produced the same in the eyes of both the children.

Amelia, after a short silence, looking tenderly at her children, cried out, 'It is too much, too much to bear. 'Why did I bring these little wretches into the world! 'why were these innocents born to such a fate!'-She then threw her arms round them both, (for they were before embracing her knees), and cried, 'O my children! my children! forgive me, my babes!-Forgive me that 'I have brought you into such a world as this! You are เ undone-my children are undone!'

The little boy answered with great spirit, 'How un'done, mammy? my sister and I don't care a farthing 'for being undone-Don't cry so upon our accounts-we เ are both very well; indeed we are-But do pray tell us. I am sure some accident hath happened to poor papa.' 'Mention him no more,' cries Amelia-'your papa is -indeed he is a wicked man-he cares not for any of us-O Heavens! is this the happiness I promised เ myself this evening!'-At which words she fell into an agony, holding both her children in her arms.

The maid of the house now entered the room, with a letter in her hand, which she had received from a porter, whose arrival the reader will not wonder to have been unheard by Amelia in her present condition.

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The maid, upon her entrance into the room, perceiving the situation of Amelia, cried out, Good Heavens! 'Madam, what's the matter?' Upon which Amelia,

who had a little recovered herself after the last violent vent of her passion, started up and cried-'Nothing, 'Mrs. Susan-nothing extraordinary. I am subject to 'these fits sometimes; but I am very well now. Come,

my dear children, I am very well again; indeed I am. 'You must now go to bed; Mrs. Susan will be so good as to put you to bed.'

'But why doth not papa love us?' cries the little boy; 'I am sure we have none of us done any thing to dis'oblige him.'

This innocent question of the child so stung Amelia, that she had the utmost difficulty to prevent a relapse. However, she took another dram of wine; for so it might be called to her, who was the most temperate of women, and never exceeded three glasses on any occasion. In this glass she drank her children's health, and soon after so well soothed and composed them that they went quietly away with Mrs. Susan.

The maid, in the shock she had conceived at the melancholy, indeed frightful scene, which had presented itself to her at her first coming into the room, had quite forgot the letter, which she held in her hand. However, just at her departure, she recollected it, and delivered it to Amelia; who was no sooner alone than she opened it, and read as follows:

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เ MY DEAREST SWEETEST LOVE,

I write this from the bailiff's house, where I was 'formerly, and to which I am again brought at the suit ' of that villain Trent. I have the misfortune to think I owe this accident (I mean, that it happened to-night) to my own folly in endeavouring to keep a secret from you-O my dear! had I had resolution to confess my 'crime to you, your forgiveness would, I am convinced, have cost me only a few blushes, and I had now been

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