o weak as to tell you now what I would have you
say? Suppose you were to say, "I am a gentleman, and a man of my word,
and I repent me of my intended perfidy," do you not think you might
get your release that way? Might it not be possible that I should
reply that as your heart was gone from me, your hand might go after
it;--that I scorned to be the wife of a man who did not want me?' As
she asked this she gradually raised her voice, and half lifted herself
in her seat, stretching herself towards him.

'You might indeed,' he replied, not well knowing what to say.

'But I should not. I at least will be true. I should take you, Paul,--
still take you; with a confidence that I should yet win you to me by
my devotion. I have still some kindness of feeling towards you,--none to
that woman who is I suppose younger than I, and gentler, and a maid.'
She still looked as though she expected a reply, but there was nothing
to be said in answer to this. 'Now that you are going to leave me,
Paul, is there any advice you can give me, as to what I shall do next?
I have given up every friend in the world for you. I have no home. Mrs
Pipkin's room here is more my home than any other spot on the earth. I
have all the world to choose from, but no reason whatever for a
choice. I have my property. What shall I do with it, Paul? If I could
die and be no more heard of, you should be welcome to it.' There was
no answer possible to all this. The questions were asked because there
was no answer possible. 'You might at any rate advise me. Paul, you
are in some degree responsible,--are you not,--for my loneliness?'

'I am. But you know that I cannot answer your questions.'

'You cannot wonder that I should be somewhat in doubt as to my future
life. As far as I can see, I had better remain here. I do good at any
rate to Mrs Pipkin. She went into hysterics yesterday when I spoke of
leaving her. That woman, Paul, would starve in our country, and I
shall be desolate in this.' Then she paused, and there was absolute
silence for a minute. 'You thought my letter very short; did you not?'

'It said, I suppose, all you had to say.'

'No, indeed. I did have much more to say. That was the third letter I
wrote. Now you shall see the other two. I wrote three, and had to
choose which I would send you. I fancy that yours to me was easier
written than either one of mine. You had no doubts, you know. I had
many doubts. I could not send them all by post, togethe