I cannot interest
myself about him as I do about one whom I know and love
and esteem. I feel that this is not a nice way of writing
to you, and indeed I would be nice if I could. Of course
I wish you to be full of joy;--of course I wish with all
my heart that you may be happy if you marry your cousin;
but the thing has come so suddenly that we cannot bring
ourselves to look upon it as a reality.

"You should speak for yourself, Janet," said Mr. Fenwick, when he
came to this part of the letter. He did not, however, require that
the sentence should be altered.

You talk so much of doing what is right! Nobody has ever
doubted that you were right both in morals and sentiment.
The only regret has been that such a course should be
right, and that the other thing should be wrong. Poor man!
we have not seen him yet, nor heard from him. Frank says
that he will take it very badly. I suppose that men do
always get over that kind of thing much quicker than women
do. Many women never can get over it at all; and Harry
Gilmore, though there is so little about him that seems to
be soft, is in this respect more like a woman than a man.
Had he been otherwise, and had only half cared for you,
and asked you to be his wife as though your taking him
were a thing he didn't much care about, and were quite
a matter of course, I believe you would have been up at
Hampton Privets this moment, instead of going soldiering
with a captain.

Frank bids me send you his kindest love and his best
wishes for your happiness. Those are his very words, and
they seem to be kinder than mine. Of course you have my
love and my best wishes; but I do not know how to write as
though I could rejoice with you. Your husband will always
be dear to us, whoever he may be, if he be good to you.
At present I feel very, very angry with Captain Marrable;
as though I wish he had had his head blown off in battle.
However, if he is to be the happy man, I will open my
heart to him;--that is, if he be good.

I know this is not nice, but I cannot make it nicer now.
God bless you, dearest Mary.

Ever your most affectionate friend,

JANET FENWICK.

The letter was not posted till the hour for despatch on the following
day; but, up to that hour, nothing had been seen at the Vicarage of
Mr. Gilmore.

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHAT MR. GILMORE THOUGHT ABOUT IT