to tell Midwinter to write from London, and ask to be reconciled;
and Midwinter would obey me--and to London Armadale would go. Every
difficulty, at starting, is smoothed over ready to my hand.
Every after-difficulty I could manage for myself. In the whole
venture--desperate as it looks to pass myself off for the widow of one
man, while I am all the while the wife of the other--there is absolutely
no necessity that wants twice considering, but the one terrible
necessity of Armadale's death.

"His death! It might be a terrible necessity to any other woman; but is
it, ought it to be terrible to Me?

"I hate him for his mother's sake. I hate him for his own sake. I hate
him for going to London behind my back, and making inquiries about me.
I hate him for forcing me out of my situation before I wanted to go. I
hate him for destroying all my hopes of marrying him, and throwing me
back helpless on my own miserable life. But, oh, after what I have done
already in the past time, how can I? how can I?

"The girl, too--the girl who has come between us; who has taken him away
from me; who has openly insulted me this very day--how the girl whose
heart is set on him would feel it if he died! What a vengeance on _her_,
if I did it! And when I was received as Armadale's widow what a triumph
for _me_. Triumph! It is more than triumph--it is the salvation of me.
A name that can't be assailed, a station that can't be assailed, to
hide myself in from my past life! Comfort, luxury, wealth! An income
of twelve hundred a year secured to me secured by a will which has been
looked at by a lawyer: secured independently of anything Armadale can
say or do himself! I never had twelve hundred a year. At my luckiest
time, I never had half as much, really my own. What have I got now? Just
five pounds left in the world--and the prospect next week of a debtor's
prison.

"But, oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how can I?
how can I?

"Some women--in my place, and with my recollections to look back
on--would feel it differently. Some women would say, 'It's easier the
second time than the first.' Why can't I? why can't I?

"Oh, you Devil tempting me, is there no Angel near to raise some timely
obstacle between this and to-morrow which might help me to give it up?

"I shall sink under it--I shall sink, if I write or think of it any
more! I'll shut up these leaves and go out again. I'll get some common
person to come with me, and