trust to the impulse of the moment for his final decision and
action. He had given up, it seemed, that promising idea of trusting to
the generosity of the rightful owner; yet, considering their mutual
relation, and one or two minor circumstances, he might certainly do so
without misgiving, embarrassment, or dishonor.

"It's that infernal letter!" muttered the young man between his teeth,
staring gloomily out at the cheerless snow-storm. "I wish it had never
been written. No! that I could feel sure there was no truth in it."

Turning from the window, he stepped over to the table, and dropped
himself into his chair. He took from his pocket a well-worn envelope,
hardly capable of holding on to the inclosed letter, which peeped forth
at the corners, and through various rents in the front and back. He did
not open it, for he had long known by heart every word and italic in it;
but, placing it in front of him, he leaned upon his elbows, with his
forehead resting between his hands, and gazed fixedly down upon it. It
is an assistance to the vividness of thought to have some object in
sight connected with the matter under consideration.

"Ought I to have answered it?" ran his soliloquy: for though he had
frequently taken counsel with himself concerning this letter before, he
recurred again and again to the subject, pleasing himself with the hope
that still, in some way, a fortunate ray of light might be struck out;
"but, if I had, what should I have gained by it? It's as well not to
have risked putting any thing on paper; and if she really has the proofs
she talks about, I shall hear from her again, and soon, for she knows
which is my wedding-day; and it must all be decided, one way or another,
before then. But she couldn't have made the assertion if she hadn't
known some good grounds for it; and yet I can't understand it--I
cannot." He pressed his temples strongly between his hands, and chewed
his brown mustache. "As to my having 'no legal claim to a cent,' I knew
that before. What puzzles me is, 'There is no consideration--not a
_shadow_ of relationship, or affection, or generosity--nothing to give
you the least _prospect_ of receiving any thing.' How can that be? And
yet what she says at the end--it sounds more like a threat she knows she
can fulfil than an attempt to humbug." Bressant took his right hand from
his forehead, and tapped with his finger on the envelope as he repeated
the words: "If this is enough--convinces yo