? I
shall call soon, and have a long gossip with you. I always had a sort of
liking for you, and (now I'm as good as you are) I want to be friends."

I made a short and civil reply to this; determining inwardly that when
she did visit me she should get no further than the house-door. I don't
scruple to say that I was thoroughly disgusted with her. When a woman
sells herself to a man, that vile bargain is none the less infamous (to
my mind) because it happens to be made under the sanction of the Church
and the Law.

As I sit at the desk thinking, the picture of the Major and his wife
vanishes from my memory--and the last scene in my story comes slowly
into view.

The place is my bedroom. The persons (both, if you will be pleased to
excuse them, in bed) are myself and my son. He is already three weeks
old; and he is now lying fast asleep by his mother's side. My good Uncle
Starkweather is coming to London to baptize him. Mrs. Macallan will be
his godmother; and his godfathers will be Benjamin and Mr. Playmore.
I wonder whether my christening will pass off more merrily than my
wedding?

The doctor has just left the house, in some little perplexity about me.
He has found me reclining as usual (latterly) in my arm-chair; but on
this particular day he has detected symptoms of exhaustion, which he
finds quite unaccountable under the circumstances, and which warn him to
exert his authority by sending me back to my bed.

The truth is that I have not taken the doctor into my confidence. There
are two causes for those signs of exhaustion which have surprised my
medical attendant--and the names of them are--Anxiety and Suspense.

On this day I have at last summoned courage enough to perform the
promise which I made to my husband in Paris. He is informed, by this
time, how his wife's Confession was discovered. He knows (on Mr.
Playmore's authority) that the letter may be made the means, if he so
will it, of publicly vindicating his innocence in a Court of Law. And,
last and most important of all, he is now aware that the Confession
itself has been kept a sealed secret from him, out of compassionate
regard for his own peace of mind, as well as for the memory of the
unhappy woman who was once his wife.

These necessary disclosures I have communicated to my husband--not
by word of mouth; when the time came, I shrank from speaking to
him personally of his first wife--but by a written statement of the
circumstances, taken mainly