The True Story Of Lady Byron’s Life, Part 2, Harriet Beecher Stowe

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The True Story of Lady Byron's Life, Part two of
three by Harriet Beecher Stowe, published in The Atlantic September
eighteen sixty nine issue. This is a LibriVox recording. All
LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information
or to volunteer, visit to LibriVox dot org. Lord Byron

(00:25):
has described in one of his letters the impression left
upon his mind by a young person whom he met
one evening in society, and who attracted his attention by
the simplicity of her dress and a certain air of
singular purity and calmness with which she surveyed the scene
around her. On inquiry, he was told that this young

(00:46):
person was Miss Millbank, an only child and one of
the largest heiresses in England. Lord Byron was fond of
idealizing his experiences in poetry, and the friends of Lady
Byron had no difficulty recognizing the portrait of Lady Byron
as she appeared at this time in her life. In
his exquisite description of Aurora Rabbi quote, there was indeed

(01:11):
a certain fair and fairy, one of the best class,
and better than her class. Aurora Rabbi, a young star
who shone, or life too sweet an image for such glass.
A lovely being scarcely formed or molded, arose with all
its sweetest leaves, yet folded early in years, and yet

(01:31):
more infantine in figure. She had something of sublime in eyes,
which sadly shone as Seraph's shine, all youth, but with
an aspect beyond time, radiant and grave as pitying man's decline,
mournful but mournful of another's crime. She looked as if
she sat by Eden's door and grieved for those who

(01:55):
could return no more. She gazed upon a world she
scarcely knew, as seeking not to know, silent, lone, as
rose a flower. Thus quietly she grew and kept her
heart serene within its zone. There was awe in the
homage which she drew. Her spirit seemed as seated on
a throne apart from the surrounding world, and strong in

(02:18):
its own strength, most strange in one so young end quote.
Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and
the manner in which he was piqued into thinking of her,
is given in a stanza or two quote. The dashing
and proud air of Adeline imposed not upon her. She

(02:40):
saw her blaze, much as she would have seen a
glow worm shine, then turned unto the stars for loftier rays.
One was something she could not divine, being no civil
in the new world's ways. Yet she was nothing dazzled
by the meteor because she did not pin her faith
on feature his fame, too, for he had that kind

(03:04):
of fame which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind, a
heterogeneous mass of glorious blame, half virtues and whole vices
being combined, faults which attract because they are not tame
follies tricked out so brightly that they blind. These seals
upon her wax made no impression, such was her coldness

(03:26):
or her self possession. Aurora sat with that indifference which
piques a pru chevalier as it ought. Of all offenses,
that's the worst offense, which seems to hint you are
not worth a thought to his gay nothings. Nothing was replied,
or something which was nothing, as urbanity required. Aurora scarcely

(03:50):
looked aside, nor even smiled enough for any vanity the
devil was in the girl. Could it be pride or modesty,
or at or inanity? Wan was drawn thus into some attentions,
slight but select, and just enough to express to females
of prospicuous comprehensions that he would rather make them more

(04:14):
than less. Aurora, at the last, so history mentions, though
probably much less a fact than guess, so far relaxed
her thoughts from their sweet prison, as once or twice
to smile, if not to listen. But Wan had a
sort of winning way, a proud humility, if such there be,

(04:35):
which showed such deference to what females say, as if
each charming word were a decree. His tact, too, tempered
him from grave to gay, and taught him when to
be reserved or free. He had the art of drawing
people out without their seeing what he was about, Aurora, who,

(04:57):
in her indifference, confounded him in common with the crowd
of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense than
whispering fuplings, or than whittlings loud commenced from such slight things,
Wilgreate commence to feel the flattery which attracts the proud
rather by deference than compliment, and wins even by a

(05:21):
delicate dissent. And then he had good looks. That point
was carried nem Khan amongst the women. Now, though we
know of old that looks deceive and always have done.
Somehow these good looks make more impression than the best
of books. Aurora, who looked more on books than faces,

(05:43):
was very young, although so very sage, admiring more minerva
than the graces, especially upon the printed page. But Virtue's self,
with all her tightest laces, has not the natural stays
of strict old age, and Socrates that model of all
duty owned to a pensiant the discreet for beauty end quote.

(06:09):
The presence of this high minded, thoughtful, unworldly woman is
described through two cantoes of the wild rattling Don Juan,
in a manner that shows how deeply the poet was
capable of being affected by such an appeal to his
higher nature. For instance, when Don Juan sits silent and
thoughtful amid a circle of persons who are talking scandal,

(06:32):
the poet says, quote tis true. He saw Aurora look
as though she approved his silence. She perhaps mistook its
motive for that charity we owe but seldom pay the absent.
He gained esteem where it was worth the most, And
certainly Aurora had renewed in him some feelings he had

(06:54):
lately lost or hardened, feelings which, perhaps ideal, are so
divine that I must deem them real. The love of
higher things and better days, the unbounded hope, and heavenly
ignorance of what is called the world and the world's ways,
the moments when we gather from a glance more joy

(07:16):
than from all future pride or praise, which kindled manhood,
but can ne'er entrance. The heart is an existence of
its own, of which another's bosom is the zone, and
full of sentiments sublime as bellows heaving between this world
and worlds beyond. Don Juan, when the midnight hour of

(07:37):
pillows arrived, retired to his end. Quote. In all these
descriptions of a spiritual, unworldly nature acting on the spiritual
and unworldly part of his own nature, everyone who ever
knew Lady Byron intimately must have recognized the model from
which he drew and the experience from which he spoke,

(08:00):
even though nothing was further from his mind than to
pay this tribute to the woman he had injured. And
though before these lines which showed how truly he knew
her real character, had come one stanza of ribald vulgar
caricature designed as a slight to her quote. There was
miss Millpond, smooth as summer's see that usual paragon, an

(08:25):
only daughter who seemed else, cream of equanimity till skimmed.
And then there was some milk and water, with a
slight shade of blue too. It might be beneath the surface,
but what did it matter. Love's riotous, but marriage should
have quiet, and being consumptive live on a milk diet.

(08:48):
The result of Byron's intimacy with Miss Millbank and the
enkindling of his nobler feelings was an offer of marriage,
which she, though at the time deeply interested in him, declined,
with many expressions of friendship and interest. In fact, she
already loved him, but had that doubt of her power

(09:09):
to be to him all that wife should be, which
would be likely to arise in a mind so sensitively
constituted and so unworldly. They, however, continued a correspondence as
friends on her part, the interest continually increasing on his.
The transient rise of better feelings was choked and overgrown

(09:29):
by the thorns of base unworthy passions. From the height
at which he might have been happy as the husband
of a noble woman, he fell into the depths of
a secret adulteress intrigue with a blood relation so near
in consanguinity that discovery must have been utter ruin and
expulsion from civilized society. From henceforth, this damning, guilty secret

(09:54):
became the ruling force in his life, holding him with
a morbid fascination, yet filling him with remorse and anguish
and insane dread of detection. Two years after his refusal
by Miss Millbank, his various friends, seeing that for some
cause he was wretched, pressed marriage upon him. Marriage has

(10:14):
often been represented as the proper goal and terminus of
a wild and dissipated career, and it has been supposed
to be the appointed mission of good women to receive
wandering prodigals with all the rags and disgraces of their
old life upon them, and put rings on their hands
and shoes on their feet, and introduced them, clothed and

(10:37):
in their right minds, to an honorable career in society.
Marriage was therefore universally recommended to Lord Byron by his
numerous friends and well wishers, and so he determined to marry,
and in an hour of reckless desperation, sat down and
wrote proposals to two ladies. One was declined. The other,

(10:59):
which was accepted, was to miss Millbank. The world knows
well that he had the gift of expression, and will
not be surprised that he wrote a very beautiful letter,
and that the woman, who had already learned to love
him fell at once into its snare. Her answer was
a frank, outspoken avowal of her love for him, giving

(11:21):
herself to him heart and hand. The good in Lord
Byron was not so utterly obliterated that he could receive
such a letter without emotion, or practice such unfairness on
a loving, trusting heart without pangs of remorse. He had
sent the letter in mere recklessness, He had not seriously
expected to be accepted, and the discovery of the treasure

(11:44):
of affection which he had secured was like a vision
of lost heaven to a soul in hell. But nevertheless,
in his letters written about the engagement, there are sufficient
evidences that his self love was flattered at the preference
succorded him by so superior a woman, and one who
had been so much sought. He mentions with an air

(12:06):
of complacency that she has employed the last two years
in refusing five or six of his acquaintance that he
had no idea she loved him, admitting that it was
an old attachment on his part. He dwells on her
virtues with a sort of pride of ownership. There is
a sort of childish levity about the frankness of these letters,

(12:27):
very characteristic of the man who skimmed over the deepest
abysses with the lightest jests before the world, And to
his intimates, he was acting the part of the successful fiancee,
conscious all the while of the deadly secret that lay
cold at the bottom of his heart. When he went
to visit Miss Milbanks's parents as her accepted lover, she

(12:51):
was struck with his manner and appearance. She saw him
moody and gloomy, evidently wrestling with dark and desperate thoughts
and anything but what a happy and accepted lover should be.
She sought an interview with him alone and told him
that she had observed that he was not happy in
the engagement, and magnanimously added that if on review he

(13:13):
found he had been mistaken in the nature of his feelings,
she would immediately release him and they should remain only friends.
Overcome with the conflict of his feelings, Lord Byron fainted away.
Miss Milbank was convinced that his heart must really be
deeply involved in an attachment with reference to which he

(13:33):
showed such strength of emotion, and she spoke no more
of a dissolution of the engagement. There is no reason
to doubt that Byron was, as he relates in his dream,
profoundly agonized and agitated when he stood before God's altar
with the trusting young creature whom he was leading to
a fate so awfully tragic. Yet it was not the

(13:56):
memory of Mary Choworth, but another guiltier and more damning
memory that overshadowed that hour. The moment the carriage doors
were shut upon the bridegroom and the bride, the paroxysm
of remorse and despair, unrepentant remorse and angry despair broke
forth upon her. Gentle head, you might have saved me

(14:17):
from this, madam. You had all in your power when
I offered myself to you first. Then you might have
made me what you pleased. But now you will find
that you have married a devil. In Miss Martineau's sketches.
Recently published is an account of the termination of this
wedding journey, which brought them to one of Lady Baron's

(14:38):
ancestral country seats, where they were to spend the honeymoon.
Miss Martineux says quote at the altar, she did not
know that she was a sacrifice, but before sunset of
that winter day she knew it. If a judgment may
be formed from her face and attitude of despair when
she alighted from the carriage on the afternoon of her

(14:58):
marriage day, it was not the traces of tears which
won the sympathy of the old butler who stood at
the open door. The bridegroom jumped out of the carriage
and walked away. The bride alighted and came up the
steps alone with a countenance and frame agonized and listless,
with evident horror and despair. The old servant longed to

(15:21):
offer his arm to the young, lonely creature as an
assurance of sympathy and protection from this shock. She certainly rallied,
and soon the pecuniary difficulties of her new home were
exactly what a devoted spirit like hers was fitted to encounter.
Her husband bore testimony after the catastrophe that a brighter, being,

(15:43):
a more sympathizing and agreeable companion, never blessed any man's
home when he afterward called her cold and mathematical and
over pious, and so forth. It was when public opinion
had gone against him, and when he had discovered that
her fidelity and mercy, her silence and magnanimity might be
relied on, so that he was at full liberty to

(16:06):
make his part good. As far as she was concerned.
Silence she was even to her own parents, whose feelings
she magnanimously spared. She did not act rashly in leaving him,
though she had been most rash in marrying him. Not
all at once did the full knowledge of the dreadful

(16:27):
reality in which she had entered come upon the young wife.
She knew vaguely from the wild avowals of the first
hours of their marriage that there was a dreadful secret
of guilt, that Byron's soul was torn with agonies of remorse,
and that he had no love to give her in
return for a love which was ready to do and
dare all for him. Yet bravely she addressed herself to

(16:51):
the task of soothing and pleasing and calming the man
whom she had taken for better or for worse, yeah
and gifted with a peculiar air of refined and spiritual beauty,
graceful in every movement, possessed of exquisite taste, a perfect
companion to his mind in all the higher walks of

(17:11):
literary culture, and with that infinite pliability to all his varying,
capricious moods which true love alone can give. Bearing in
her hand a princely fortune with which a woman's uncalculating
generosity was thrown at his feet, there is no wonder
that she might feel for a while as if she
could enter the lists with the very devil himself, and

(17:34):
fight with a woman's weapons for the hearts of her husband.
There are indications scattered through the letters of Lord Byron, which,
though brief, indeed showed that his young wife was making
every effort to accommodate herself to him and to give
him a cheerful home. One of the poems that he
sends to his publisher about this time, he speaks of

(17:56):
as being copied by her. He had always the highest
regard for her literary judgments, and opinions, And this little
incidence shows that she was already associating herself in a
wifely fashion with his aims as an author. The poem
copied by her, however, has a sad meaning, which she
afterwards learned to understand only too well. Quote There's not

(18:21):
a joy the world can give like that it takes
away when the glow of early thought declines in feelings.
Dull decay tis not on youth's smooth cheek, the blush
alone that fades so fast, But the tender bloom of
heart is gone. Ere youth itself be passed. Then the

(18:41):
few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness are
driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess.
The magnet of their course is gone. Are only points
in vain the shore to which their shivered sail shall
never stretch again. End quote. Only a few days before

(19:02):
she left him forever, Lord Byron sent Murray manuscripts in
Lady Byron's handwriting of the Siege of Corinth and Parisina,
and wrote, quote, I am very glad that the handwriting
was a favorable omen of the morale of the piece,
But you must not trust to that, for my copyist
would write out anything I desired in all the ignorance

(19:23):
of innocence. End. Quote. There were lucid intervals in which
Lord Byron felt the charm of his wife's mind and
the strength of her powers. Quote Belle, you could be
a poet too, if you only thought so, he would say.
There were summer hours in her stormy life, the memory
of which never left her, when Byron was as gentle

(19:45):
and tender as he was beautiful, when he seemed to
be possessed by a good angel, and then for a
little time all the ideal possibilities of his nature stood revealed.
The most dreadful men to live with are those who
thus alternate between angel and she devil. The buds of
hope and love, called out by a day or two
of sunshine, are frozen again and again till the tree

(20:07):
is killed. But there came an hour of revelation, an
hour when, in a manner which left no kind of
room for doubt, Lady Byron saw the full depth of
the abyss of infamy which her marriage was expected to cover,
and understood that she was expected to be the cloak
and the accomplice of this infamy. Many women would have

(20:28):
been utterly crushed by such a disclosure. Some would have
fled from him immediately and exposed and denounced his crime.
Lady Byron did neither. When all the hope of womanhood
died out of her heart, there arose within her, stronger, purer,
and brighter, that immortal kind of love, such as God
feels for the sinner, the love of which Jesus spoke,

(20:51):
and which holds the one wanderer of more account than
the ninety and nine that went not astray. She would
neither leave her husband, nor betray him, nor yet would
she for one moment justify his sin. And hence came
two years of convulsive struggle, in which sometimes for a
while the good angel seemed to gain ground, and then

(21:13):
the evil one returned with sevenfold vehemence. Lord Byron argued
his case with himself and with her, with all the
sophistries of his powerful mind. He repudiated Christianity as authority,
asserted the right of every human being to follow out
what he called the impulses of nature. Subsequently, he introduced

(21:34):
into one of his dramas the reasoning by which he
justified himself in incest. In the drama of Cain. Adda,
the sister and wife of Cain thus addressed him, Cain,
walk not with this spirit, bear with what we have borne,
and love me. I love thee Lycifer more than thy

(21:55):
mother and thy sire. Adda, I do is that a
sin to Lucifer? No? Not yet it one day will
be in your children. Adda, what must not my daughter
love her brother Enoch Lucifer, not as thou lovest Cain? Ada, Oh,
my God, shall they not love and bring forth things

(22:18):
that love out of their love? Have they not drawn
their milk out of this bosom? Was not he their father,
born of the same soul womb in the same hour
with me? Did we not love each other? And in
multiplying our being, multiply things which will love each other
as we love them, and as I love thee my Cain.

(22:40):
Go not forth with this spirit. He is not of ours, Lucifer.
The sin I speak of is not of my making
and cannot be a sin in you, whate'er it seems
in those who will replace ye in mortality. Adda, what
is the sin which is not sin in itself? Can
circumstance make sin of virtue? If it doth we are

(23:03):
the slaves of end quote. Lady Byron, though slight and
almost infantile in her bodily presence, had the soul not
only of an angelic woman, but of a strong reasoning man.
It was this writer's lot to know her at a
period when she formed the personal acquaintance of many of

(23:24):
the very first minds of England. But among all with
whom this experience brought her in connection, there was none
who impressed her so strongly as Lady Byron. There was
an almost supernatural power of moral divination, a grasp of
the very highest and most comprehensive things, that made her
lightest opinions singularly impressive. No doubt this result was wrought

(23:48):
out in a great degree from the anguish and conflict
of these two years, when, with no one to help
or counsel her but Almighty God, she wrestled and struggled
with fiends of darkness for redemption of her husband's soul.
She followed him through all his sophistical reasonings with a
keener reason. She besought and implored in the name of

(24:10):
his better nature, and by all the glorious things that
he was capable of being and doing. And she had
just power enough to convulse and shake and agonize, but
not power enough to subdue. One of the first living writers,
in the novel of Romola, has given in her masterly
sketch of the character of Tito, the whole history of

(24:32):
the conflict of a woman like lady Byron, with a
nature like that of her husband. She has described a
being full of fascinations and sweetnesses, full of generosities and
of good natured impulses, a nature that could not bear
to give pain or to see it in others, but
entirely destitute of any firm moral principle. She shows how

(24:54):
such a being, merely, by yielding step by step to
the impulses of passion and disregarding the claims of truth
and right, becomes involved in a fatality of evil in
which deceit, crime, and cruelty are a necessity, forcing him
to persist in the basest ingratitude to the father who
has done all for him, and hard hearted treachery to

(25:17):
the high minded wife who has given herself to him wholly.
There are few scenes in literature more fearfully tragic than
the one between Romola and Tito, when he finally discovers
that she knows him fully and can be deceived by
him no more. Some such hour always must come for

(25:37):
strong decided natures irrevocably pledged, one to the service of
good and the other to the slavery of evil. The
demoniac cried out, what have I to do with thee
Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to torment me? Before
the time The presence of all pitying, purity and love
was a torture to the soul possessed by the deans

(26:00):
of evil. These two years in which Lady Byron was,
with all her soul struggling to bring her husband back
to his better self, were a series of passionate convulsions.
During this time, such was the disordered and desperate state
of his worldly affairs, that there were ten executions for

(26:20):
debt levied on their family establishment, and it was Lady
Byron's fortune each time which settled the account. Toward the last,
she and her husband saw less and less of each other,
and he came more and more decidedly under evil influences,
and seemed to acquire a sort of hatred of her.
Lady Byron once said significantly to a friend who spoke

(26:42):
of some causeless dislike in another. My dear, I have
known people to be hated for no other reason than
because they impersonated conscience. The biographers of Lord Byron and
all his apologists are careful to narrate how sweet and
amiable and obliging he was to everybody who approached him,

(27:04):
and the saying of Fletcher, his manservant, that anybody could
do anything with my Lord except milady, has often been quoted.
The reason of all this will now be evident. My
lady was the only one fully understanding the deep and
dreadful secrets of his life, who had the courage resolutely
and persistently and inflexibly to plant herself in his way

(27:27):
and insist upon it that if he went to destruction,
it should be in spite of her best efforts. He
had tried his strength with her fully. The first attempt
had been to make her an accomplice by sophistry, by
destroying her faith in Christianity and confusing her sense of
right and wrong, to bring her into the ranks of

(27:47):
those convenient women who regard the marriage tie only as
a friendly alliance to cover licenses on both sides. When
her husband described to her the continental latitude, the good
humored marriage, in which complacent couples mutually agreed to form
the cloak for each other's infidelities, and gave her to

(28:08):
understand that in that way alone could she have a
peaceful and friendly life with him. She answered him simply,
I am too truly your friend to do this. When
Lord Byron found that he had to do with one
who would not yield, who knew him fully, who could
not be blinded, and could not be deceived, he determined
to rid himself of her altogether. It was when the

(28:31):
state of affairs between herself and her husband seemed darkest
and most hopeless, that the only child of this union
was born. Lord Byron's treatment of his wife during the
sensitive period that preceded the birth of his child and
during her confinement, was marked with paroxysms of unmanly brutality,
for which the only possible charity on her part was

(28:53):
the supposition of insanity. Moore sheds a significant light on
this period by telling as that about this time Byron
was often drunk day after day with his friend Richard Sheridan.
There had been insanity in the family, and this was
the plea which Lady Byron's love put in for him.

(29:13):
She regarded him as, if not insane, at least so
nearly approaching the boundaries of insanity as to be a
subject of forbearance and tender pity. And she loved him
with that love resembling a mother's, which good wives often
feel when they have lost all faith in their husband's
principles and all hopes of their affections. Still, she was,

(29:36):
in heart and soul his best friend, true to him,
with a truth which he himself could not shake. In
the verses addressed to his daughter, Lord Byron speaks of
her as quote, the child of love, though born in
bitterness and nurtured in convulsion end quote. A day or
two after the birth of this child, Lord Byron came

(29:58):
suddenly into Lady Byron's room and told her that her
mother was dead. It was an utter falsehood, but it
was only one of the many nameless injuries and cruelties
by which he expressed his hatred of her. A short
time after her confinement, she was informed by him in
a note that as soon as she was able to travel,
she must go. That he could not and would not

(30:20):
longer have her about him, and when her child was
only five weeks old, he carried this threat of expulsion
into effect. Here we will insert briefly Lady Byron's own account,
the only one she ever gave to the public of
this separation. The circumstances under which this brief story was
written are affecting. Lord Byron was dead. The whole account

(30:47):
between him and her was closed forever in this world,
Moore's life had been prepared, containing simply and solely Lord
Byron's own version of their story. Moore sent this version
to Lady Byron and requested to know if she had
any remarks to make upon it. In reply, she sent
a brief statement to him, the first and only one

(31:08):
that had come from her during all the years of
the separation, and which appears to have mainly for its
object the exculpation of her father and mother from the
charge made by the poet of being the instigators of
the separation. In this letter, she says, with regard to
their separation, quote, the facts are I left London for

(31:29):
Kirby Mallory, the residence of my father and mother, on
the fifteenth of January eighteen sixteen. Lord Byron had signified
to me in writing January sixth, his absolute desire that
I should leave London on the earliest day that I
could conveniently fix it. It was not safe for me
to undertake the fatigue of a journey sooner than the fifteenth.

(31:51):
Previously to my departure, it had been strongly impressed upon
my mind that Lord Byron was under the influence of insanity.
This opinion was derived in a great measure from the
communications made me by his nearest relatives and personal attendant,
who had more opportunity than myself for observing him during

(32:11):
the latter part of my stay in town. It was
even represented to me that he was in danger of
destroying himself with the concurrence of his family. I had
consulted Doctor Bailey as a friend January eighth, respecting the
supposed malady, on acquainting him with the state of the case,
and with Lord Byron's desire that I should leave London,

(32:33):
Doctor Bailey thought that my absence might be advisable as
an experiment, assuming the fact of mental derangement. For Doctor Bailey,
not having had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce
a positive opinion on that. He enjoined that, in correspondence
with Lord Byron, I should avoid all but light and
soothing topics. Under these impressions, I left London determined to

(32:57):
follow the advice given by Doctor Bailey. Whatever might have
been the conduct of Lord Byron toward me from the
time of my marriage, yet supposing him to be in
a state of mental alienation, it was not for me,
nor for any person of common humanity, to manifest at
that moment a sense of injury. End quote. Nothing more

(33:19):
than this letter from Lady Byron is necessary to substantiate
the fact that she did not leave her husband, but
was driven from him. Driven from him that he might
give himself up to the guilty infatuation that was consuming him,
without being tortured by her imploring face and by the
silent power of her presence and her prayers. For a

(33:42):
long time before this, she had seen little of him.
On the day of her departure, she passed by the
door of his room and stopped to caress his favorite spaniel,
which was lying there, And she confessed to a friend
the weakness of feeling a willingness even to be something
as humble as that poor little creeped might she only
be allowed to remain and watch over him. She went

(34:04):
into the room where he and the partner of his
sins were sitting together, and said, Byron, I come to
say good bye, offering at the same time her hand
Lord Byron put his hands behind him, retreated to the mantelpiece, and,
looking round on the two that stood there, with a
sarcastic smile, said when shall we three meet again? Lady

(34:28):
Byron answered in Heaven I trust, and those were her
last words to him on earth. This ends Part two
of the true story of Lady Byron's life by Harriet
Beecher Stowe, read for you by Michel Frye Batonrouge Louisiana,
who invites you to join her for part three.