A Double Marriage
mysteries of phenomena, and I am not happy except alone. Luxury, comfort, even affection, irritate me, and you know how constantly I lose my temper. I can no longer control myself. You have told me of late that I had something on my mind—that I was unhappy, disturbed. You were right. For weeks I have tried to get over the mood which obsesses me, to drive my desires for wandering from me, to try and fall into your ways ; but I have failed. The craving for solitude has taken possession of me, and every word you speak, every time the doorbell rings, or a visitor comes in, it drives me mad. I am afraid of myself. Your mother spoke to me last night. Every word she said was true. She said that you were not happy, and I know that you are not—that I have failed miserably. I fear I was rude to her. Ask her to forgive me. There is no one in the world that I respect more than your mother. I have no fault to find with you, you are adorable ; but I have failed as a husband—failed miserably. I have no excuse to offer for having asked you to marry me—no excuse for going away. I am wondering whether some day you will understand. You have always said that I was not like other men. Perhaps I am mad—I don't know. One thing I beg of you, and that is, if ever you meet a man more worthy of you, and whom you can love, to put me out of your mind. If you wish to divorce me, I will make no defence ; if you wish me to free you by other means, a letter will reach me care of my solicitors, and I will disappear completely from your path. After all, what is one life amongst so many? I should at least feel that I had a little atoned for this unpardonable act of leaving you. I
