reason as he could command bade him
look up and view with scorn the ragged defenders of the forts; but
whence came this hail of missiles which kept him so sore? Clearly there
was some element of his nature which eluded grasp and definition,
a misty influence making itself felt here and there. To none of the
sources upon which I have touched was it clearly traceable; in truth,
it arose from them all. The man had never in his life been guilty of
offence against his graver conscience; he had the sensation of being
about to plunge from firm footing into untried depths. His days were
troubled; his appetite was not what it should have been; he could not
take the old thorough interest in his work. It was becoming clear to him
that the matter must be settled one way or another with brief delay.

One day at the end of September he received a letter addressed by Alice.
On opening it he found, with much surprise, that the contents were in
his mother's writing. It was so very rarely that Mrs. Mutimer took up
that dangerous instrument, the pen, that something unusual must have led
to her doing so at present. And, indeed, the letter contained unexpected
matter. There were numerous errors of orthography, and the hand was not
very legible; but Richard got at the sense quickly enough.

'I write this,' began Mrs. Mutimer, 'because it's a long time since
you've been to see us, and because I want to say something that's
better written than spoken. I saw Emma last night, and I'm feeling
uncomfortable about her. She's getting very low, and that's the truth.
Not as she says anything, nor shows it, but she's got a deal on her
hands, and more on her mind. You haven't written to her for three weeks.
You'll be saying it's no business of mine, but I can't stand by and see
Emma putting up with things as there isn't no reason. Jane is in a very
bad way, poor girl; I can't think she'll live long. Now, Dick, what I'm
aiming at you'll see. I can't understand why you don't get married and
done with it. Jane won't never be able to work again, and that Kate 'll
never keep up a dressmaking. Why don't you marry Emma, and take poor
Jane to live with you, where she could be well looked after? for she
won't never part from her sister. And she does so hope and pray to see
Emma married before she goes. You can't surely be waiting for her death.
Now, there's a good lad of mine, come and marry your wife at once, and
don't make delays. That's all, but I hope you'll