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Chapter [Fourth]
The next morning when D'Aubigne entered the breakfast room
finding no one there, he took up a news-paper to read until
Julia should come down. Some time lapsed, at last the servant having
arranged the breakfast, [placed], telling him that his
mistress had a headache and begged o be excused. Henry and Rosa
joined him. When the table was cleaned, Henry filled his satchel with
his school books, , and shaking hands with his uncle, as he called D'Aubigne
went off [?ity] to school. Rosa asked if she should run to get
a little book to read her lesson to him, he [apented], and away she flew.
D'Aubigne walked to the room, still thinking of what had occupied
his [walninful] [?] hours through the [myht], the agitation Julia had
betrayed on seeing the [saperscription] of the letter, this agitation, followed
by [indisforction] this morning - what could occasion it. [h?ne the com-
munication from her husband, why hastily conceal the letter, as
she had done, on the approach of D'Aubigne? Was her husband ill?
How long was he to be absent? When was he gone? All these
questions he would feign have asked Julia, but since the days of
his arrival, when she had told him her husband had gone on a
journey, she had so evidently awarded the subject, was so complete
-ly silent as to every thing that concerned her him, that D'Aubigne
equally shunned a topic which seemed to give her pain.
There was a mystery enveloped not only Julia's conduct, but charac-
-ter he could not reconcile her animation and gaiety in company,
her sweetness and tenderness towards him, her excesive fondness for her
children, her general mindset, amenity to cheerfulness; with
idea of a negligent and indifferent wife - or with
an unhappy and abandoned one. And yet want of affection, -or wounded
affection must be he thought the cause of the [nefrignance] she
disconcerned to sheathing of her husband. But that letter - from
whom was that letter? He threw himself on a settee near an open window
and while one would have approved he was intently watching the waving branches
of a willow tree that grew near, so immaneably were his eyes fixed when
it. He was thinking of [?] and of days far, far remote from

Chapter [Fourth]
The next morning when [I'Aubigne] entered the breakfast room
finding no one there, he took up a news-paper to read until
Julia should come down. Some time lapsed, at last the servant having
arranged the breakfast, [placed], telling him that his
[mistnep] had a headache and begged o be excused. Henry and Rosa
joined him. When the table was cleaned, Henry filled his satchel with
his school books, , and shaking hands with his uncle, as he called [I'Aubigne]
went off [?ity] to school. Rosa asked if she should run to get
a little book to read her [?] to him, he [apented], and away she flew.
[I'Aubigne] walked to the room, still thinking of what had occupied
his [walninful] [?] hours through the [myht], the agitation Julia had
betrayed on seeing the [saperscription] of the letter, this agitation, followed
by [indisforction] this morning - what could occasion it. [h?ne the com-
munication from her husband, why hastily conceal the letter, as
she had done, on the approach of I'Aubigne]? Was her husband ill?
How long was he to be absent? When was he gone? All these
questions he would feign have asked Julia, but since the days of
his arrival, when she had told him her husband had gone on a
journey, she had so evidently awarded the subject, was so complete
-ly silent as to every thing that concerned her him, that [I'Aubigne]
equally shunned a topic which seemed to give her pain.
There was a mystery enveloped not only Julia's conduct, but charac-
-ter he could not reconcile her animation and gaiety in company,
her sweetness and tenderness towards him, her excesive fondness for her
children, her general mindset, amenity to cheerfulness; with
idea of a negligent and indifferent wife - or with
an unhappy and abandoned one. And yet want of affection, -or wounded
affection must be he thought the cause of the [nefrignance] she
disconcerned to sheathing of her husband. But that letter - from
whom was that letter? He threw himself on a settee near an open window
and while one would have approved he was intently watching the waving branches
of a willow tree that grew near, so immaneably were his eyes fixed when
it. He was thinking of [?] and of days far, far remote from