ABSTRACT
The rain which had penetrated Mrs. Morley’s dress, though her heart was warm, chilled its circulation. She was on the following day seized with feverish shiv-erings, and confined to her bed. Her only anxiety was for the young mother’s safety, and her only ruminations were those of devising means to obtain intelligence how she had passed the night. During the day she received a letter from Mr. Morley, informing her that new business of the utmost importance, no less than the death of an uncle, who had left him a large addition to his fortune, obliged him to set off without delay for Brussels. He requested that she would reconcile her mind to the separation which would not be of many weeks, and that she would not fail to write by every opportunity. Mrs. Morley’s union with her husband owed its source to sentiment more than to passion; she could therefore exist out of his presence. She felt the value of fortune by the indulgence of her benignant propensities, and the augmentation of those powers reconciled her to the absence of her husband.
