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From the moment the condemnation of Essex reached the Queen, peace and rest were strangers to her.—The chosen of her heart was now the victim of the laws, and that heart must bleed through his, unless he could be induced to throw himself on her mercy. A thousand emissaries assured him of a ready pardon—a word, a wish, would have obtained it.—To these he ever replied with the same collected

air, "that had the Queen earlier shewn him this indulgence, his life had never come within the censure of the law; but as even her utmost bounty now could only prolong to him the liberty of breathing, he was willing, as well for her safety, as in submission to his sentence, to resign a privilege, which became a burthen the moment it was his only one." An answer thus calculated to touch the most indifferent heart, stabbed that of Elizabeth: yet as, unasked, to grant him a pardon, would stamp her declining life with inexcusable weakness, she underwent every hour the most trying conflicts.
Ah! why do I say the most trying? alas, there was a fair, and forlorn one, buried in Cumberland, who more than died when this cruel intelligence reached her. As the sentence of Essex included his friend Southampton, the relations of the latter dispatched an express to his wife, hoping she would arrive in London time enough to sollicit his pardon of the

Queen. The messenger found the unfortunate Ladies buoyed up with safety, solitude, and many a gentle hope! When the approach of horses echoed through the remote valley, no other emotion was excited in either, than the fond and latent flutter arising from the idea that it might be one or both of the condemned Earls.—How terrible was then the transition in their minds, when fully informed of their desperate situation; and bereft of every resource expected misery supplies? The unhappy wife of Southampton, engrossed by her own share in the affliction, observed not its deep, its deadly effect, on the intellects of her equally suffering friend; till the stupefaction of Ellinor became intense, and obvious, and the evil irremediable.
The human mind, even when most elevated, is not equal to the influence of two opposing passions—a sacrifice must be made, and friendship yields to love. Lady Southampton posted away with unremitting diligence; intrusting her

friend to the care of faithful servants, who were directed to bring her forward more leisurely.—The deep gloom of the sweet Ellinor's mind, in the course of the journey, gave way to a vague and irregular gaiety; but as
