ng the world--will it not?

"Two other things I understand from your letter. First, that you do not
wish to meet me so often in future; and, second, that though you know my
pain would be diminished by the frank expression of your sympathy, and
though you might find it in your heart to be frankly sympathetic, yet
you do not think it would be right, and you do not mean to be actively
beneficent. Am I wrong? If I am, you must forgive me; but, if I am not,
I cannot accept your decision without entering my protest.

"Think, my dear friend--you will allow me that word!--to what you
condemn me if you take your stand upon the extreme dictates of
conventionality. You cannot know what it would mean to me if you were to
say, 'He is a married man, and we had better not meet so frequently in
future.' To you, that would be no loss whatever. To me, it would be the
loss of happiness, of consolation, of intellectual life. Listen and have
pity upon me! I could not say it to your face, but I will say it now,
though you may think it an unpardonable crime. You have become so
necessary to me that I cannot contemplate existence without you. Have
you not seen it already--or, if you have not, can you doubt when you
look back on the past six months--that respect has grown into affection,
and affection into love? Yes, I love you, Lettice!--in my own heart I
call you Lettice every hour of the day--and I cannot live any longer
without telling you of my love.

"When I began this letter I did not mean to tell you--at any rate not
to-day. Think of the condition of my mind when I am driven by such a
sudden impulse--think, and make allowance for me!

"I am not sure what I expected when I resolved to make my sad story
known to you. Perhaps, in my madness, I thought, 'There is a right and a
wrong above the right and wrong of society's judgments; and she is on
the higher levels of humanity, and will take pity on my misfortunes.' I
only say, perhaps I thought this. I don't know what I thought. But I
knew I could not ask you to be my wife, and I determined that you should
know why I could not.

"Oh, how I hate that woman! I believe that she is dead. I tell myself
every day that she is dead, and that there is nothing to prevent me from
throwing myself at your feet, and praying you to redeem me from misery.
Is not my belief enough to produce conviction in you? No--you will not
believe it; and, perhaps, if you did, you would not consent to redeem
me. No! I