d not tell me even after you knew how I felt. I suppose you felt
so confident of her that you trusted her absolutely to handle an affair
of this sort herself.

I want to say right here, you were justified. Whatever in that other
letter I may have said to lead you to believe she had come to care for
me in the slightest was a result solely of my own self-delusion and her
innate gentleness. I have discovered that my sister, meaning no harm,
went to her and told her that the restoration of my sight depended upon
her interest in me. It was manifestly unfair of my sister to put it
that way, but the little woman was thinking only of me. I'm sorry it
was done. Evidently it was the basis upon which she made the feeble
promise I spoke of, and which I exaggerated into something more.

She cared for me no more than for a friend temporarily afflicted.
That's all, Covington. Neither in word nor thought nor deed has she
ever gone any further. Looking back upon the last few days now, it is
clear enough. Rather than hurt me, she allowed me to talk--allowed me
to believe. Rather, she suffered it. It was not pleasant for her.
She endured it because of what my sister had said. It seems hard luck
that I should have been led in this fashion to add to whatever other
burdens she may have had.

I ask you to believe--it would be an impertinence, except for what I
told you before--that on her side there has been nothing between us of
which you could not approve.

Now for myself. In the light of what I know to-day, I could not have
written you of her as I did. Yet, had I remained silent, all I said
would have remained just as much God's truth as then. Though I must
admit the utter hopelessness of my love, I see no reason why I should
think of attempting to deny that love. It would n't be decent to
myself, to you, or to her. It began before you came into her life at
all. It has grown bigger and cleaner since then. It persists to-day.
I'm talking to you as man to man, Covington. I know you won't confuse
that statement with any desire on my part--with any hope, however
remote--to see that love fulfilled further than it is fulfilled to-day.
That delusion has vanished forever. I shall never entertain it again,
no matter what course your destiny or her destiny may take. I cannot
make that emphatic enough, Covington. It is based upon a certain
knowledge of facts which, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to reveal
to you.

So,