So,
the merry devil prompting me, I gave the men the address of his
ancient flame, my Lady Bellaston, and off they jogged with Jones.
Was there ever, Belford, a stranger amoris redintegratio than this
must have been, when our Lydia heard the old love at the rarely
shaken doors:
Me tuo longas pereunte noctes,
Lydia, dormis?
Ah, how little hath Madam Sophia taken by despatching her lord to
town, and all to break my head. My fellow, who carries this to
thee, has just met Fellamar's man, and tells me that FELLAMAR
YESTERDAY WENT DOWN INTO SOMERSET. What bodes this rare
conjunction and disjunction of man and wife and of old affections?
and hath "Thomas, a Foundling," too, gone the way of all flesh?
Thy LOVELACE.
No news of the dear fugitive! Ah, Belford, my conscience and my
cousins call me a villain! Minxes all.
LETTER: From Miss Catherine Morland to Miss Eleanor Tilney.
Miss Catherine Morland, of "Northanger Abbey," gives her account of
a visit to Mr. Rochester, and of his governess's peculiar
behaviour. Mrs. Rochester (nee Eyre) has no mention of this in her
Memoirs.
Thornfield, Midnight
At length, my dear Eleanor, the terrors on which you have so often
rallied me are become REALITIES, and your Catherine is in the midst
of those circumstances to which we may, without exaggeration, give
the epithet "horrible." I write, as I firmly believe, from the
mansion of a maniac! On a visit to my Aunt Ingram, and carried by
her to Thornfield, the seat of her wealthy neighbour, Mr.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74