orld, without a stain on his
character or his name--thanks to his wife.

"Write to me, sometimes, Eustace; and believe me, through all the
bitterness of this bitter business, your faithful and loving

"VALERIA."

There was my reply! Poor enough as a composition (I could write a much
better letter now), it had, if I may presume to say so, one merit. It
was the honest expression of what I really meant and felt.

I read it to Benjamin. He held up his hands with his customary gesture
when he was thoroughly bewildered and dismayed. "It seems the rashest
letter that ever was written," said the dear old man. "I never heard,
Valeria, of a woman doing what you propose to do. Lord help us! the new
generation is beyond my fathoming. I wish your uncle Starkweather was
here: I wonder what he would say? Oh, dear me, what a letter from a wife
to a husband! Do you really mean to send it to him?"

I added immeasurably to my old friend's surprise by not even employing
the post-office. I wished to see the "instructions" which my husband had
left behind him. So I took the letter to his lawyers myself.

The firm consisted of two partners. They both received me together. One
was a soft, lean man, with a sour smile. The other was a hard, fat man,
with ill-tempered eyebrows. I took a great dislike to both of them. On
their side, they appeared to feel a strong distrust of me. We began
by disagreeing. They showed me my husband's "instructions," providing,
among other things, for the payment of one clear half of his income as
long as he lived to his wife. I positively refused to touch a farthing
of his money.

The lawyers were unaffectedly shocked and astonished at this decision.
Nothing of the sort had ever happened before in the whole course of
their experience. They argued and remonstrated with me. The partner
with the ill-tempered eyebrows wanted to know what my reasons were. The
partner with the sour smile reminded his colleague satirically that I
was a lady, and had therefore no reasons to give. I only answered, "Be
so good as to forward my letter, gentlemen," and left them.

I have no wish to claim any credit to myself in these pages which I do
not honestly deserve. The truth is that my pride forbade me to accept
help from Eustace, now that he had left me. My own little fortune (eight
hundred a year) had been settled on myself when I married. It had been
more than I wanted as a single woman, and I was resolved that it should
be