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Mr. Markland did not, like too many of his profession, ever flatter his clients with an assurance of success in any cause of which he himself was doubtful: he plainly told Mrs. Munden, that he feared not all the ill-usage she had sustained would be sufficient to compel her husband to allow her a separate maintenance. 'Honour and generosity may, indeed,' added he, 'oblige him to do that which, I am very apprehensive, the law will not enforce him to.'

'Alas!' cried Mrs. Munden, bursting into tears, 'if I can have no relief but from his honour and generosity, I must be miserable!'—'Not so, my dear sister,' said Mr. Thoughtless, 'while you have a brother who has it in his power to support you against all the injuries of fortune, and the injustice of a husband so unworthy of you.'

She thanked him in terms which so affectionate an offer demanded from her, but could not help appearing very much dejected at what Mr. Markland had said to her: on which, 'Madam,' said he, 'though the letter of the law may not be altogether so favourable for you in this point as you certainly deserve, yet, notwithstanding that, and how refractory soever Mr. Munden may be in his principles or dispositions, I hope there may be means found to bring him to do you justice. I will wait on him—will talk to him in a proper manner; and do flatter myself with being able to give you a good account of what I have done.'

It is not to be doubted but both the brother and the sister earnestly intreated he would exert all his abilities in an affair which they easily saw would be difficult enough to manage; but the answers of this honest, good-natured gentleman, soon convinced them that there was no need of any persuasions to induce him to do every thing in his power for the service of ill-treated innocence.

Mrs. Munden having told him that about eleven o'clock was the most certain time for her husband to be spoke with, he went the next morning at that hour: on sending up his name, Mr. Munden guessed the errand on which he came; but that did not hinder him from ordering he should be introduced, nor, when he was so, from receiving him with that politeness he always used to strangers.

Mr. Markland began with telling him he was extremely sorry for the occasion on which he waited on him that morning; 'I little imagined,' said he, 'that when I drew up the articles for an union between you, Sir, and Mrs. Munden, I should ever have been employed in transacting a deed of separation: but, since it has unhappily proved so, I hope, at least, it may be done as amicably as the nature of the thing will admit.'

Mr. Munden at first affected to treat this proposal in a manner somewhat ludicrous; but perceiving it was not well taken by the other, 'You will pardon me, Sir,' cried he; 'I protest I am under the greatest consternation in the world, that my wife should have the assurance to trouble a gentleman of your character on so foolish an affair: upon my honour, Sir, there is nothing in it but mere whim—caprice!'

'If I did not think it sufficiently serious,' replied Mr. Markland, 'and were not also well convinced you will hereafter find it so, I should not have given either myself or you the trouble of this visit: but, Sir,' continued he, 'you may depend that the lady's complaints will have their weight.'

'All womanish spite, upon my soul, Sir!' resumed Mr. Munden; 'I defy her to accuse me of any one action that can justify her quitting my house, much less to prove any real injury received from me; without which, you know, Sir, there can be no pretence for separation.'

'You cannot as yet, Sir, be sensible what is in her power to prove,' said the lawyer: 'but God forbid this unhappy dissention should ever come to that! for, admitting she should be wanting in such proofs as the strictness of the law requires in these cases, the very attempt must necessarily involve you in an infinity of disquiet. Consider, Sir,' pursued he, 'when the affairs of a family are laid open, and every dispute between the husband and the wife exposed before a court of judicature, or even in a petition to a Lord Chancellor, the whole becomes a publick talk, and furnishes a matter of ridicule for the unthinking scoffers of the age.'

'I can easily prevent all this,' cried Mr. Munden hastily, 'by procuring a warrant from the Lord Chief Justice to force her immediately home.'—'You may certainly do so,' cried Mr. Markland, with a half smile; 'but, Sir, are you sure of keeping her at home when you have got her there? Is it not in her power to leave you again the same day, nay, even the same hour, in which you compelled her to return? so that your whole time may be spent in an unavailing chase, somewhat of a piece with the fable of the Sisyphæan stone, which, as often as the driver forced to the height he aimed at, rolled back to it's beloved descent. In short, Sir, as Mrs. Munden is determined to live apart, you have no way to preserve her but by confinement; and I appeal to your own judgment how that would look in the eyes of the world, and what occasion for complaint it would afford to all her friends, who would, doubtless, have a strict watch on your behaviour.'

These words threw Mr. Munden into a deep reverie, which the other would not interrupt, being willing to see how far this last remonstrance had worked upon him; till, coming out of it, and vexed that he had shewn any discomposure; 'Well, Sir,' said he, 'if she resolves to persist in this obstinacy, let her enjoy her humour; I shall give myself no pain about it; but she must not expect I shall allow one penny towards her maintenance.'

It was on this head that Mr. Markland found he had occasion to employ all the rhetorick he was master of: he urged the unreasonableness, the injustice, the cruelty, of denying the means of subsistence to a lady whose whole fortune he enjoyed; said such a thing was altogether unprecedented among persons of condition; and, to prove what he alledged, produced many instances of wives who, on parting from their husbands, were allowed a provision proportionable to the sums they had brought in marriage.

All these arguments were enforced in terms so strong and so pathetick, that Mr. Munden could make no other answer than, that he did not desire to part—that it was her own fault—and that if she would not return to her duty, she ought to be starved into a more just sense of it—and that he was very sure the law would not compel him to do any thing for her: on which Mr. Markland again reminded him of the vexation, the fatigue, the disgrace, with which a suit commenced by either party must be attended, in whose favour soever the decision should be made.

He talked so long on the subject, that Mr. Munden, either to get rid of him, or because he was really uncertain what to do, at last told him that he would consider on what he had been saying, and let him know his resolution in a week's time. Mr. Markland then replied, that he would trouble him no farther for the present; and after having prefixed a day for waiting on him again, took his leave.

The mind of Mr. Munden was, indeed, in the utmost confusion amidst that variety of vexatious incidents which he had now to struggle with—the little probability he found there was of re-establishing himself in the favour of his patron—the loss of all his hopes that way—the sudden departure of a wife whom, though he had no affection for, he looked upon as a necessary appendix to his house—the noise her having taken such a step would make in the town—the apprehensions of being obliged to grant her a separate maintenance; all these things put together, it is certain, were sufficient to overwhelm a man of less impatient temper.

He cursed his amour with the Frenchwoman, as having been the cause of this last misfortune falling on him; and, to prevent all farther trouble on her account, ordered that the baggage she had left behind should be immediately put on board a vessel, and sent after her to Bologne: he also wrote to her at the same time, acquainting her with the disturbance which had happened; and that it was highly necessary for his future peace that he should see her no more, nor even hold any correspondence with her.

Mrs. Munden, in the mean time, was far from being perfectly easy; though Mr. Markland gave her hopes that her husband would very speedily be brought to settle things between them in a reasonable way; and her brother was every day giving her fresh assurances of his friendship and protection, whether that event proved favourable or not: yet all this was not enough to quell some scruples which now rose in her mind; the violence of that passion which had made her resolve to leave Mr. Munden being a little evaporated, the vows she had made him at the altar were continually in her thoughts; she could not quite assure herself that a breach of that solemn covenant was to be justified by any provocations; nor whether the worst usage on the part of the husband could authorize resentment in that of a wife.

She was one day disburdening her disquiets on this score to her dear Lady Loveit, in terms which made that lady see, more than ever she had done before, the height of her virtue, and the delicacy of her sentiments, when Sir Bazil came hastily into the room with a paper in his hand; and after paying his compliments to Mrs. Munden, 'My dear,' said he to his lady, 'I have very agreeable news to tell you; I have just received a letter from my brother Trueworth, which informs me that he is upon the road, and we shall have him with us this evening.'—'I am extremely glad,' replied she; 'and, likewise, that he is so good to let us know it, that I may make some little preparations for his welcome.'

Mrs. Munden could not be told that Mr. Trueworth was so near, and might presently be in the same room with her, without the utmost confusion; which she fearing would be observed, laid hold of the pretence Lady Loveit's last words furnished her with, of taking her leave; and, rising hastily up, 'I will wait on your ladyship,' said she, 'at a more convenient time; for I perceive you are now going to be busy.'—'Not at all,' replied the other; 'three words will serve for all the instructions I have to give; therefore, pr'ythee, dear creature, sit down.' In speaking these words, she took hold of one of her hands, and Sir Bazil of the other, in order to replace her on the settee she had just quitted; but she resisting their efforts, and desiring to be excused staying any longer, 'I protest,' cried Lady Loveit, 'this sudden resolution of leaving us would make one think you did it to avoid Mr. Trueworth! and, if that be the case, I must tell you, that you are very ungrateful, as he always expresses the greatest regard for you.'—'Aye, aye!' said Sir Bazil, laughing; 'old love cannot be forgot: I have heard him utter many tender things of the charming Miss Betsy Thoughtless, even since his marriage with my sister.'

'I ought not, then,' replied she, 'to increase the number of obligations I have to him by that compassion which I know he would bestow on my present distress: but I assure you, Sir Bazil, I would not quit you and my dear Lady Loveit thus abruptly, if some letters I have to write, and other affairs which require immediate dispatch, did not oblige me to it.'

On this they would not offer to detain her; and she went home to give a loose to those agitations which the mention of Mr. Trueworth always involved her in.