ABSTRACT
Another fortnight passed, and still no intelligence arrived of Mrs. Montgomery – The depression of Ethelinde’s mind grew hourly greater; and her health proportionably suffered. Deprived of every thing that could render life desireable; and doubting whether she ever should be restored to those friends, without whom it would become a burthen; compelled to affect a tranquillity she could not feel, or be exposed to reproaches for pride, coldness and affectation; she had no respite but in sleep; which, though often broken and disturbed, yet afforded her sometimes more pleasing images than her waking hours presented: and she now never beheld the dawn of the day without regretting its return, and entering reluctantly on a scene of painful dissimulation and continual internal uneasiness.
