CHAPTER XXV.
Think upon my grief, And on the justice of my flying hence, To keep me from a most unholy match .-- SHAKSPEARE.
"But are you quite sure," said General St.Leger, "are you quite sure that this girl still permits Mordaunt's addresses ?" "Sure!" cried Miss Diana St.Leger, "sure, General! I saw it with my own eyes.

They were standing together in the copse, when I, who had long had my suspicions, crept up, and saw them; and Mr.Mordaunt held her hand, and kissed it every moment.

Shocking and indecorous!" "I hate that man! as proud as Lucifer," growled the General.

"Shall we lock her up, or starve her ?" "No, General, something better than that." "What, my love?
flog her ?" "She's too old for that, brother; we'll marry her." "Marry her!" "Yes, to Mr.Glumford; you know that he has asked her several times." "But she cannot bear him." "We'll make her bear him, General St.Leger." "But if she marries, I shall have nobody to nurse me when I have the gout." "Yes, brother: I know of a nice little girl, Martha Richardson, your second cousin's youngest daughter; you know he has fourteen children, and you may have them all, one after another, if you like." "Very true, Diana; let the jade marry Mr.Glumford." "She shall," said the sister; "and I'll go about it this very moment: meantime I'll take care that she does not see her lover any more." About three weeks after this conversation, Mordaunt, who had in vain endeavoured to see Isabel, who had not even heard from her, whose letters had been returned to him unopened, and who, consequently, was in despair, received the following note:-- This is the first time I have been able to write to you, at least to get my letter conveyed: it is a strange messenger that I have employed, but I happened formerly to make his acquaintance; and accidentally seeing him to-day, the extremity of the case induced me to give him a commission which I could trust to no one else.

Algernon, are not the above sentences written with admirable calmness?
are they not very explanatory, very consistent, very cool?
and yet do you know that I firmly believe I am going mad?
My brain turns round and round, and my hand burns so that I almost think that, like our old nurse's stories of the fiend, it will scorch the paper as I write.