It was too
horrible that I should even UNDERSTAND it so well." A woeful, wry little
smile twisted her mouth. "I was not brave enough to have done it. I
could never have DONE it, Betty; but the thought was there--it was
there! I used to think it had made a black mark on my soul."
. . . . .
The letter took long to write. It led a consecutive story up to the
point where it culminated in a situation which presented itself as no
longer to be dealt with by means at hand. Parts of the story previous
letters had related, though some of them it had not seemed absolutely
necessary to relate in detail. Now they must be made clear, and Betty
made them so.
"Because you trusted me you made me trust myself," was one of the things
she wrote. "For some time I felt that it was best to fight for my own
hand without troubling you. I hoped perhaps I might be able to lead
things to a decorous sort of issue. I saw that secretly Rosy hoped and
prayed that it might be possible. She gave up expecting happiness before
she was twenty, and mere decent peace would have seemed heaven to her,
if she could have been allowed sometimes to see those she loved and
longed for. Now that I must give up my hope--which was perhaps a rather
foolish one--and now that I cannot remain at Stornham, she would have
no defence at all if she were left alone.
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