ould break her heart if you left her. Look here,
Constance: you knew my mother; you know then what it means to live
nobly and truly in the light of a greater goodness than the world
yet understands. God, or whoever made you, made your soul very
white; how dare you let the smuts fall upon it? How dare you tread
among falsehoods, you that have heard of Truth?

Try, my dearest, try to be brave; surely it is the duty of each one
of us to live the noblest life he can. The world is so beautiful! It
is only ourselves and our mistakes that lie foul upon it. When the
most holy of human ties, defying nature, becomes the bane of those
it binds, it is better to break it than to let one's life cast a
daily blot, as it were, on the sanctity of motherhood and the love
of the child.

Come to me; live with me in peace awhile! We will think and read
together, master ourselves, and find some path to tread. I, too, am
in need of resolution. Whilst my dear mother lived, she held me by
the hand. You know how, when two walk together, the weaker
unconsciously leaves it to the stronger to lead the way? Well, so it
was with me; and now I must learn to find my path alone. I know now
what she meant when she said that the first use to which a man must
put his courage is to being himself.

All good be with you, dear heart.

EMILIA.

LETTER V.

GRAYSMILL, August 7th.

Dearest, I wrote you such a stern letter the other day, that I feel
I must write again before the week comes round. It was, after all, a
silly promise we made each other to write just once a week, neither
more nor less. This time I write at odds with myself. It's all very
well to talk about sincerity, it baffles one completely at times;
there isn't a greater liar under the sun at this moment than Emilia
Fletcher. My outward life is all out of tune with my inward self.
Perhaps if you saw me with my old ladies, you would say: "Quite
right; please them by all means, sit with them, drive with them,
make small talk, listen to their little tales. It pleases them, and
it doesn't harm you." But I answer: Is it right? Is it not rank
hypocrisy? Is affection won by false pretences worth the having? I
tell you, I am playing a part all day long. I read to them out of
books that I either despise or abhor; I play to them music unworthy
of the name; I nod my head in acquiescence when my