e master in a hopeless collapse of
conflicting, and, it is to be feared, not very heroic emotions.
The situation, which had begun so dramatically, had become suddenly
unromantically ludicrous, without, however, losing any of its
embarrassing quality. He was conscious that he occupied the singular
position of being more ridiculous than the husband--whose invincible and
complacent simplicity stung him like the most exquisite irony. For an
instant he was almost goaded into the fury of declaring that he had
broken off from the writer of the letters forever, but its inconsistency
with the chivalrous attitude he had just taken occurred to him in time
to prevent him from becoming doubly absurd. His rage with Seth Davis
seemed to him the only feeling left that was genuine and rational, and
yet, now that Uncle Ben had gone, even that had a spurious ring. It was
necessary for him to lash himself into a fury over the hypothesis that
the letters MIGHT have been Cressy's, and desecrated by that scoundrel's
touch. Perhaps he had read them and left them to be picked up by others.
He looked over them carefully to see if their meaning would, to the
ordinary reader, appear obvious and compromising. His eye fell on the
first paragraph.

"I should not be quite fair with you, Jack, if I affected to disbelieve
in your faith in your love for me and its endurance, but I should be
still more unfair if I didn't tell you what I honestly believe, that at
your age you are apt to deceive yourself, and, without knowing it, to
deceive others. You confess you have not yet decided upon your career,
and you are always looking forward so hopefully, dear Jack, for a change
in the future, but you are willing to believe that far more serious
things than that will suffer no change in the mean time. If we continued
as we were, I, who am older than you and have more experience, might
learn the misery of seeing you change towards ME as I have changed
towards another, and for the same reason. If I were sure I could keep
pace with you in your dreams and your ambition, if I were sure that I
always knew WHAT they were, we might still be happy--but I am not sure,
and I dare not again risk my happiness on an uncertainty. In coming to
my present resolution I do not look for happiness, but at least I know
I shall not suffer disappointment, nor involve others in it. I confess I
am growing too old not to feel the value to a woman--a necessity to her
in this country--of se