and must despise; but that were to me more endurable than friendship
gained on false pretences. I repeat, therefore, Stanley, that _Dorcas
must know the whole truth_. Do not suppose, my poor brother, that I write
from impulse--I have deeply thought on the subject.'

'_Deeply_,' repeated Stanley, with a sneer.

'And the more I reflect, the more am I convinced--if _you_ will not tell
her, Stanley, that _I_ must. But it will be wiser and better, terrible as
it may be, that the revelation should come from _you_, whom she has made
her husband. The dreadful confidence would be more terrible from any
other. Be courageous then, Stanley; you will be happier when you have
disclosed the truth, and released, at all events, one of your victims.

'Your sorrowful and only sister,

'RACHEL.'


On finishing the letter, Stanley rose quickly to his feet. He had become
gradually so absorbed in reading it, that he laid his cigar unconsciously
beside him, and suffered it to go out. With downcast look, and an angry
contortion, he tore the sheets of note-paper across, and was on the point
of reducing them to a thousand little snow flakes, and giving them to the
wind, when, on second thoughts, he crumpled them together, and thrust
them into his breast pocket.

His excitement was too intense for foul terms, or even blasphemy. With
the edge of his nether lip nipped in his teeth, and his clenched hands in
his pockets, he walked through the forest trees to the park, and in his