There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter. Her husband was prouder of her every day. I knew it. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts.
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