storm of feeling within,
she began to write, at first slowly, and then very rapidly.

"He must have got my letter by now. I sent it by Janet this morning. He
wasn't there--but by now he must have got home--he is probably reading
it at this moment. Whatever happens to me--I want just to say this--to
write it down now, while I can--I shall never blame George, and I shall
always love him--with all my heart, with all my soul. He has the right to
say he can't trust me--I told him so in my letter this morning--that I am
not fit to be his wife. He has the right--and very likely he will say it.
The terrible thing is that I don't trust myself. If I look forward and
ask myself--shall I always feel as I do now?--I can't honestly be sure.
There is something in me that wants change--always something new--some
fresh experience. I can't even imagine the time when I shouldn't love
George. The mere thought of losing him is awful--unspeakable. But yet--I
will write it down frankly!--nothing has ever lasted with me very long.
It is like the farm. I used to love every minute of the day, every bit of
the work, however dull and dirty it was; and now--I love it still--but I
seem already--sometimes--to be looking forward to the day when I shall be
tired of it.

"Why am I made like that? I don't know. But I can't feel that I am
responsible.

"Perhaps if George forgives me, I shall be so happy that everything will
change--my own character first of all. That is my hope. For though I
suppose I am vain--though I like people to admire me and make much of
me--I am not really in love with myself at all. If I were, I couldn't be
in love with George--we are so different.

"I don't feel yet that I know him. Perhaps now I never shall. I often
find myself wishing that he had something to confess to me. I would
hardly let him--he should never humble himself to me. But to feel that I
_could_ forgive him something, and that he would owe me something--would
be very sweet, very heavenly. I would make it so easy for him. Is he
feeling like that towards me? 'Poor child--she was very young--and so
miserable!'

"I mustn't write like this--it makes me cry. There is a beautiful yellow
sunset outside, and the world seems very still. He must be here soon--or
a messenger. Janet asked him not to wait.

"After all, I don't think I am so changeable. I have just been running
myself down--but I don't really believe I could ever change--towards him.
Oh, George!--George