This earnestness struck me with surprise. I remembered the expression
in my wife's face the day before when I told her the letter had been
received, I now recalled to mind the fact, that, on no occasion,
had she ever shown me any of her mother's letters; though nothing
surely would have seemed more natural, as she knew how keen was my
anxiety to hear at all times from the old maternal city.
My suspicions began to warm, and I resolved upon another act of
baseness in obedience to the counsel of my evil spirit. I pretended
to look awhile for the letter, but finally dismissed the girl,
saying that I had mislaid it, but would bring it home with me when
I came to dinner. The moment she had gone I examined this precious
document. It was sealed with one of those gum wafers which are stuck
on the outside of the envelope. In turning it over, as if everything
was prepared to gratify my wish, I discovered that one section of
the wafer had nearly parted from the paper. To the upper section of
the fold it adhered closely. To the lower it was scarcely attached
at all, and seemed never to have been as well fastened as the upper.
The temptation was irresistible. A very slight effort enabled me
to complete the separation without soiling the paper or fracturing
the seal. This was all done within my desk, the leaf of the desk
being raised and resting upon my head. In this position I could
easily close the desk, in the event of any intrusion, without
suffering the intruder to see in what I had been engaged. Thus
guarded I proceeded to read the precious epistle, which I found
very much what I should have expected from such a woman. It said
a great deal about her neighbors and her neighbors' dresses; and
how her dear Delaney was sometimes "obstropolous," though in the
end a mighty good man; and much more over which I hurried with all
the rapidity of disgust. But there was matter that made me linger.
One or two sentences thrown into the postscript contained a volume. I
read, with lifted hair and a convulsed bosom, the following passage:-"Delaney tells me that Bill Edgerton has gone to travel. He says
to Tennessee. But I know better. I know he can't keep from you,
let him try his best. But be on your guard, Julia. Don't let him
get too free. Your husband's a jealous man, and if he was once to
dream of the truth, he'd just as leave shoot him as look at him.
I thought at one time he'd have guessed the truth before. So far
you've played your cards nicely, but that was when I was by you,
to tell you how. I feel quite ticklish when I think of you, and
remember you've got nobody now to consult with. All I can say is,
keep close. It would be the most terrible thing if Clifford should
find out or even suspect. He wouldn't spare either of you. It's
better for a woman in this country to drag on and be wretched, than
to expose herself to shame, for no one cares for her after that.
Be sure and burn this the moment you've read it. I would not have
it seen for the world. I only write it as a matter of duty, for I
can't forget that I'm your mother, though I must say, Julia, there
were times when you have not acted the part of a daughter."