f
her own misery. She used all the arguments which others had used to
her, and then drew her conclusion. She remembered that were she to
tell him that she would still be true to him, she would in fact be
asking for some such pledge back from him; and she said not a word
of any such constancy on her own part. It was best for both of them
that the engagement should be broken off; and, therefore, broken off
it was, and should be now and for ever. That was the upshot of Mary
Lowther's letter.

[Illustration: Mary Lowther writes to Walter Marrable.]

Captain Marrable when he received it, though he acknowledged the
truth of all the arguments, loved the girl far too well to feel that
this release gave him any comfort. He had doubtless felt that the
engagement was a burthen on him,--that he would not have entered into
it had he not felt sure of his diminished fortune, and that there
was a fearful probability that it might never result in their being
married; but not the less did the breaking up of it make him very
wretched. An engagement for marriage can never be so much to a man as
it is to a woman,--marriage itself can never be so much, can never
be so great a change, produce such utter misery, or of itself be
efficient for such perfect happiness,--but his love was true and
steadfast, and when he learned that she was not to be his, he was as
a man who had been robbed of his treasure. Her letter was long and
argumentative. His reply was short and passionate;--and the reader
shall see it.

Duke Street, January, 186--.

DEAREST MARY,

I suppose you are right. Everybody tells me so, and no
doubt everybody tells you the same. The chances are that
I shall get bowled over; and as for getting back again, I
don't know when I can hope for it. In such a condition it
would I believe be very wrong and selfish were I to go and
leave you to think of me as your future husband. You would
be waiting for that which would never come.

As for me, I shall never care for any other woman. A
soldier can get on very well without a wife, and I shall
always regard myself now as one of those useless but
common animals who are called "not marrying men." I shall
never marry. I shall always carry your picture in my
heart, and shall not think that I am sinning against you
or any one else when I do so after hearing that you are
married.

I need not tell you that I am very wretched. It is