My wife must be dependent on me, clinging to me. This woman has always
stood, and will always stand alone; and yet I have thought that she
was capable of such deep, strong, concentrated feeling that the man
who owned her heart might do with her as he liked. This, I admit, has
tempted me to think of marriage, for, after all, George, it would be
a luxury to be very much loved. This woman would love a man in another
fashion from that which prevails in society.

But I have put the idea away from me, and here I am, determined not to
marry her, and yet feeling that I have unintentionally wronged her.
I have not been near her these seven days. I know she expects me--she
has every right to expect me--but I will not go till I have decided
what to say and do. I am too weak to go otherwise. Write to me,
George, and advise me; and remember that she is not like the women of
whom we have both known so many. She has no more idea of flirting than
had Hippolyta queen of the Amazons or Zenobia queen of Palmyra--those
two strong-minded women of old days. I am joking, but I assure you
I am not jolly. I am afraid, George, that she truly loves me, and,
unsexed though she be, love has made a woman of her, and I fear is
unmanning me.

Yours always,
HENRY LAWRENCE.

P.S. I open my letter to say that it is too late for you to write when
you receive this: it will be over. I have just got a note from her
asking to see me. I shall speak frankly, but I feel like a hound. As
ever, H.L.