"I have shown the maid into the morning-room, Sir Owen."
"Now, what is the matter, Merat?"
"Perhaps you had better read the letter first, Sir Owen, and then we
can talk."
"I can't read without my glasses; do you read it, Merat." Without
waiting for her to answer he returned to the dining-room. "I have
forgotten my glasses, Harding, that is all; you will wait for me."
His hand trembled as he tried to fix the glasses on his nose.
"MY DEAR OWEN,--I am afraid you will be disappointed, and I am
disappointed too, for I should like to see you; but I think it would
be better, and Monsignor, who was here to-day, thinks it would be
better, that we should not see each other... for the present. I have
recovered a good deal, but am still far from well; my nerves are
shattered. You know I have been through a great deal; and though I am
sure you would have refrained from all allusions to unpleasant
topics, still your presence would remind me too much of what I don't
want to think about. It is impossible for me to explain better. This
letter will seem unkind to you, who do not like unkind letters; but
you will try to understand, and to see things from my point of view,
and not to rave when I tell you that I am going to a convent--not to
be a nun; that, of course, is out of the question; but for rest, and
only among those good women can I find the necessary rest.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232