My pulses almost ceased to beat--my respiration was impeded--my
eyes swam--my senses reeled in dismay and confusion--as I read
the following epistle. Too late! too late! Blind, blind heart! And
still I was not mad!--No! no!--that would have been a mercy which
I did not merit!--that would have been forgetfulness--utter oblivion
of the woe which I can never cease to feel.
The Last Letter of Julia.
"Husband, Dear Husband!
"I write to you in fear and trembling. I have striven to speak to
you, more than once, but my tongue and strength have failed me. What
I have to tell you is so strange and offensive, and will be to you
so startling, that you will find it hard to believe me; and yet,
dear husband, there is not a syllable of it which is not true! If
I knew that I were to die to-morrow I could with perfect safety
and confidence make the same confession which I make now. But I
do not wish you to take what I say on trust; look into the matter
yourself--not precipitately--above all, not angrily--and you will
see that I say nothing here which the circumstances will not prove.
Indeed, my wonder is that so much of it has remained unknown to
you already.
"Husband, Mr. Egerton deceives you--he has all along deceived you--he
is neither your friend nor mine. I would call him rather the most
dangerous enemy; for he comes by stealth, and abuses confidence,
and, like the snake in the fable, seeks to sting the very hand that
has warmed him. I know how much this will startle you, for I know
how much you think of him, and love him, and how many are the
obligations which you owe to his father. But hear me to the end,
and you will be convinced, as I have been, that, so far from your
seeking his society and permitting his intimacy in our household,
you would be justified in the adoption of very harsh measures for
his expulsion--at least, it would become your duty to inform him
that you can no longer suffer his visits.
"To begin, then, dear husband. Mr. Egerton has been bold enough
to speak to me in such language, as was insulting in him to utter,
and equally painful and humiliating for me to hear. He has done
this, not once, nor twice, nor thrice, but many times. You will
ask why I have not informed you of this before; but I had several
reasons for forbearing to do so, which I will relate in the proper
places. I fancied that I could effectually repel insult of this
sort without making you a party to it, for I feared the violence of
your temper, and dreaded that the consequences might be bloodshed.
I am only prompted to take a different course now, as I find that
I was mistaken in this impression--and perceive that there is no
hope of a remedy against the impertinence but by appealing to you
for protection.