XV
About a month later Rowland addressed to his cousin Cecilia a letter of which the following is a portion.
". . . So much for myself; yet I tell you but a tithe of my own story unless I let you know how matters stand with poor Hudson, for he gives me more to think about just now than anything else in the world. I need a good deal of courage to begin this chapter. You warned me, you know, and I made rather light of your warning. I 've had all kinds of hopes and fears, but hitherto, in writing to you, I 've resolutely put the hopes foremost. Now, however, my pride has forsaken me, and I should like hugely to give expression to a little comfortable despair. I should like to say, 'My dear wise cousin, you were right and I was wrong; you were a shrewd observer and I was a meddlesome donkey!' When I think of a certain talk we had about the 'salubrity of genius' I feel my ears tingle. If what I 've seen is salubrity give me raging disease. I 'm pestered past bearing; I go about with a chronic heartache; there are moments when I could shed salt tears. There 's a pretty portrait of your dear dull kinsman. I wish I could make you understand; or rather I wish you could make me. I don't understand a jot; it 's a hideous, mocking mystery; I give it up. I don't in the least give it up, you know;
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