ich the morsels of the torn
paper had been irretrievably lost--and in which it had been necessary
to complete the sense in harmony with the writer's intention--the whole
letter had been put together; and the promised copy of it was forwarded
to me in Paris.

Before you, too, read that dreadful letter, do me one favor. Let me
briefly remind you of the circumstances under which Eustace Macallan
married his first wife.

Remember that the poor creature fell in love with him without awakening
any corresponding affection on his side. Remember that he separated
himself from her, and did all he could to avoid her, when he found this
out. Remember that she presented herself at his residence in London
without a word of warning; that he did his best to save her reputation;
that he failed, through no fault of his own; and that he ended, rashly
ended in a moment of despair, by marrying her, to silence the scandal
that must otherwise have blighted her life as a woman for the rest
of her days. Bear all this in mind (it is the sworn testimony of
respectable witnesses); and pray do not forget--however foolishly
and blamably he may have written about her in the secret pages of his
Diary--that he was proved to have done his best to conceal from his wife
the aversion which the poor soul inspired in him; and that he was (in
the opinion of those who could best judge him) at least a courteous and
a considerate husband, if he could be no more.

And now take the letter. It asks but one favor of you: it asks to be
read by the light of Christ's teaching--"Judge not, that ye be not
judged."

CHAPTER XLVII. THE WIFE'S CONFESSION.

"GLENINCH, October 19, 18--.

"MY HUSBAND--

"I have something very painful to tell you about one of your oldest
friends.

"You have never encouraged me to come to you with any confidences of
mine. If you had allowed me to be as familiar with you as some wives are
with their husbands, I should have spoken to you personally instead of
writing. As it is, I don't know how you might receive what I have to say
to you if I said it by word of mouth. So I write.

"The man against whom I warn you is still a guest in this
house--Miserrimus Dexter. No falser or wickeder creature walks the
earth. Don't throw my letter aside! I have waited to say this until I
could find proof that might satisfy you. I have got the proof.

"You may remember that I ventured to express some disapproval when you
first told me you had ask