At length, Edgerton departed. When he rose to do so, I felt
the awkwardness of my situation--the meanness of which I had been
guilty--the disgrace which would follow detection. The shame I
already felt; but, though sickening beneath it, the passion which
drove me into the commission of so slavish an act, was still superior
to all others, and could not then be overcome. I hurried from the
window and from the premises while he was taking his leave. My mind
was still in a frenzy. I rambled off, unconsciously, to the most
secluded places along the suburbs, endeavoring to lose the thoughts
that troubled me. I had now a new cause for vexation. I was haunted
by a conviction of my own shame. How could I look Julia in the
face--how meet and speak to her, and hear the accents of her voice
and my own after the unworthy espionage which I had instituted
upon her? Would not my eyes betray me--my faltering accents, my
abashed looks, my flushed and burning cheeks? I felt that it was
impossible for me to escape detection. I was sure that every look,
every tone, would sufficiently betray my secret. Perhaps I should
not have felt this fear, had I possessed the conrage to resolve
against the repetition of my error. Could I have declared this
resolution to myself, to forego the miserable proceeding which
I had that night begun, I feel that I should then have taken one
large step toward my own deliverance from that formidable fiend
which was then raging unmastered in my soul. But I lacked the courage
for this. Fatal deficiency! I felt impressed with the necessity of
keeping a strict watch upon Edgerton. I had seen, with eyes that
could not be deceived, the feeling which had been expressed in his.
I saw that he loved her, perhaps, without a consciousness himself
of the unhappy truth. I hurried to the conclusion, accordingly,
that he must be looked after. I did not so immediately perceive
that in looking after him, I was, in truth, looking after Julia;
for what was my watch upon Edgerton but a watch upon her? I had not
the confidence in her to leave her to herself. That was my error.
The true reasoning by which a man in my situation should be governed,
is comprised in a nutshell. Either the wife is virtuous or she is
not. If she is virtuous, she is safe without my espionage. If she
is not, all the watching in the world will not suffice to make her
so. As for the discovery of her falsehood, he will make that fast
enough. The security of the husband lies in his wife's purity, not
in his own eyes. It must be added to this argument that the most
virtuous among us, man or woman, is still very weak; and neither
wife, nor daughter, nor son, should be exposed to unnecessary
temptation. Do we not daily implore in our own prayers, to be saved
from temptation?