siness of yours. But I think that you would not
wish that she should be left under a false impression, if you
could put her right.

Somebody has told her the story of Mrs Hurtle. I suppose it was
Felix, and that he had learned it from those people at
Islington. But she has been told that which is untrue. Nobody
knows and nobody can know the truth as you do. She supposes that
I have willingly been passing my time with Mrs Hurtle during the
last two months, although during that very time I have asked for
and received the assurance of her love. Now, whether or no I
have been to blame about Mrs Hurtle,--as to which nothing at
present need be said,--it is certainly the truth that her coming
to England was not only not desired by me, but was felt by me to
be the greatest possible misfortune. But after all that had
passed I certainly owed it to her not to neglect her;--and this
duty was the more incumbent on me as she was a foreigner and
unknown to any one. I went down to Lowestoft with her at her
request, having named the place to her as one known to myself,
and because I could not refuse her so small a favour. You know
that it was so, and you know also, as no one else does, that
whatever courtesy I have shown to Mrs Hurtle in England, I have
been constrained to show her.

I appeal to you to let Hetta know that this is true. She had
made me understand that not only her mother and brother, but you
also, are well acquainted with the story of my acquaintance with
Mrs Hurtle. Neither Lady Carbury nor Sir Felix has ever known
anything about it. You, and you only, have known the truth. And
now, though at the present you are angry with me, I call upon
you to tell Hetta the truth as you know it. You will understand
me when I say that I feel that I am being destroyed by a false
representation. I think that you, who abhor a falsehood, will
see the justice of setting me right, at any rate as far as the
truth can do so. I do not want you to say a word for me beyond
that.

Yours always,

PAUL MONTAGUE.

'What business is all that of mine?' This, of course, was the first
feeling produced in Roger's mind by Montague's letter. If Hetta had
received any false impression, it had not come from him. He had told
no stories against his rival, whether true or false. He had been so
scrupulous that he had refused to say a word at all. An