The frame, however, is handsome enough; it will serve for another painting.

The picture itself I have not destroyed, as I had first intended; I have put it aside; not, I think, from any lurking tenderness for the memory of past affection, nor yet to remind me of my former folly, but chiefly that I may compare my son's features and countenance with this, as he grows up, and thus be enabled to judge how much or how little he resembles his father--if I may be allowed to keep him with me still, and never to behold that father's face again--a blessing I hardly dare reckon upon.
It seems Mr.Huntingdon is making every exertion to discover the place of my retreat.

He has been in person to Staningley, seeking redress for his grievances--expecting to hear of his victims, if not to find them there--and has told so many lies, and with such unblushing coolness, that my uncle more than half believes him, and strongly advocates my going back to him and being friends again.

But my aunt knows better: she is too cool and cautious, and too well acquainted with both my husband's character and my own to be imposed upon by any specious falsehoods the former could invent.

But he does not want me back; he wants my child; and gives my friends to understand that if I prefer living apart from him, he will indulge the whim and let me do so unmolested, and even settle a reasonable allowance on me, provided I will immediately deliver up his son.