in the position of the chosen depositary of his wife's closest secrets.
Drop by drop I poured the profaning bitterness of this world's wisdom
into that pure heart and that innocent mind, while every higher and
better feeling within me recoiled from my miserable task. It is over
now. She has learnt her hard, her inevitable lesson. The simple
illusions of her girlhood are gone, and my hand has stripped them off.
Better mine than his--that is all my consolation--better mine than his.

So the first proposal is the proposal accepted. They are to go to
Italy, and I am to arrange, with Sir Percival's permission, for meeting
them and staying with them when they return to England. In other words,
I am to ask a personal favour, for the first time in my life, and to
ask it of the man of all others to whom I least desire to owe a serious
obligation of any kind. Well! I think I could do even more than that,
for Laura's sake.

2nd.--On looking back, I find myself always referring to Sir Percival
in disparaging terms. In the turn affairs have now taken. I must and
will root out my prejudice against him, I cannot think how it first got
into my mind. It certainly never existed in former times.

Is it Laura's reluctance to become his wife that has set me against
him? Have Hartright's perfectly intelligible prejudices infected me
without my suspecting their influence? Does that letter of Anne
Catherick's still leave a lurking distrust in my mind, in spite of Sir
Percival's explanation, and of the proof in my possession of the truth
of it? I cannot account for the state of my own feelings; the one thing
I am certain of is, that it is my duty--doubly my duty now--not to
wrong Sir Percival by unjustly distrusting him. If it has got to be a
habit with me always to write of him in the same unfavourable manner, I
must and will break myself of this unworthy tendency, even though the
effort should force me to close the pages of my journal till the
marriage is over! I am seriously dissatisfied with myself--I will write
no more to-day.

December 16th.--A whole fortnight has passed, and I have not once
opened these pages. I have been long enough away from my journal to
come back to it with a healthier and better mind, I hope, so far as Sir
Percival is concerned.

There is not much to record of the past two weeks. The dresses are
almost all finished, and the new travelling trunks have been sent here
from London. Poor dear Laura