that he could not feel
sure even as to the probabilities of the case. And his suspense was
abundantly justified. Her answer came upon him with the force of a shock
totally unexpected.

He read the lines again and again; he stared at the bank-note. His
first sensation was one of painful surprise; thereupon succeeded fiery
resentment. Reason put in a modest word, hinting that he had deserved
no better; but he refused to listen. Nothing could excuse so gross an
insult. He had not thought Nancy capable of this behaviour. Tested, she
betrayed the vice of birth. Her imputation upon his motive in marrying
her was sheer vulgar abuse, possible only on vulgar lips. Well and
good; now he knew her; all the torment of conscience he had suffered was
needless. And for the moment he experienced a great relief.

In less than ten minutes letter and bank-note were enclosed in a new
envelope, and addressed back again to the sender. With no word of
comment; she must interpret him as she could, and would. He went out,
and threw the offensive packet into the nearest receptacle for such
things.

Work was over for to-night. After pacing in the obscurity of Dean's Yard
until his pulse had recovered a normal beat, he issued into the peopled
ways, and turned towards Westminster Bridge.

Despite his neglect of Nancy, he had never ceased to think of her with a
tenderness which, in his own judgment, signified something more than the
simple fidelity of a married man. Faithful in the technical sense he
had not been, but the casual amours of a young man caused him no
self-reproach; Nancy's image remained without rival in his mind; he had
continued to acknowledge her claims upon him, and, from time to time, to
think of her with a lover's longing. As he only wrote when prompted by
such a mood, his letters, however unsatisfying, were sincere. Various
influences conflicted with this amiable and honourable sentiment. The
desire of independence which had speeded him away from England still
accompanied him on his return; he had never ceased to regret his
marriage, and it seemed to him that, without this legal bondage, it
would have been much easier to play a manly part at the time of Nancy's
becoming a mother. Were she frankly his mistress, he would not be
keeping thus far away when most she needed the consolation of his
presence. The secret marriage condemned him to a course of shame, and
the more he thought of it, the more he marvelled at his deliberate