Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
good luck. I am nothing to you, but, if you ever feel kindly disposed to a dull old woman, do your best for Arthur, keep him happy—for my sake. You are making a great experiment and taking a great risk; you, and you alone, can crown it with success. When you both ask me to divorce my husband, I shall take the necessary steps; but I shall do nothing hastily. Perhaps, when you have been with him for a time, you will find that the difficulties are greater than you anticipated—or, let me say, that success is harder of achievement than you hoped. I ask only one thing: do not force yourselves into an extremity from any false pride. Be candid with me, as I have been candid with you. Should you find only failure and the prospect of failure, recognize it boldly. Write to me. Say ‘It has not turned out as we expected. Your husband is coming back to you.’ I shall receive him without reproaches, I shall know nothing. He will find his favourite dinner, his chair and cigar, his book and ‘night-cap’, as he calls it. . . I shall be truly glad to see him back, but I look at you, with all your youth and beauty ; I know that I must not keep him if you are his hope of happiness. Kiss me, dear child,” I said, “and do better for him than I have been able to do.”
A singular meeting! She stayed with me
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