"Such doings at home too! I've been two years in debt to my

landlord, and at the end of every quarter I've always prayed like

a modest woman to be allowed to pass by unnoticed. Celebrity has

fallen on me at last, though, and I'm to go at Easter. Madame de

Trop, too, has put the screw on, and everybody else is following

suit. Yesterday, for example, I had the honour of a call from

every one in the world to whom I owed twopence. Remembering how

hard it used to be to get a bill out of these people, I find their

sudden business ardour humorous. They do not deceive me

nevertheless. I see the die is cast, the fact is known. I have

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fallen from my high estate of general debtor to everybody and

become merely an honest woman.

"Do I suffer from these slings of fortune? Not an atom. When I was

rich, or seemed to be so, I was often the most miserable woman in

the world, and now I'm happy, happy, happy!

"There is only one thing makes me a little unhappy. Shall I tell

you what it is? Yes, I will tell you because your heart is so

true, and like all brave men you are so tender to all women. It is

a girl friend of mine--a very close and dear friend, and she is in

trouble. A little while ago she was married to a good man, and

they love each other dearer than life, and there ought to be

nothing between them. But there is, and it is a very serious thing

too, although nobody knows about it but herself and me. How shall

I tell you? Dearest, you are to think my head is on your breast

and you cannot see my face while I tell you my poor friend's

secret. Long ago--it seems long--she was the victim of another

man. That is really the only word for it, because she did not

consent. But all the same she feels that she has sinned and that

nothing on earth can wash away the stain. The worst fact is that

her husband knows nothing about it. This fills her with

measureless regret and undying remorse. She feels that she ought

to have told him, and so her heart is full of tears, and she

doesn't know what it is her duty to.

"I thought I would ask you to tell me, dearest. You are kind, but

you mustn't spare her. I didn't. She wanted to draw a veil over

her frailty, but I wouldn't let her. I think she would like to

confess to her husband, to pour out her heart to him, and begin

again with a clean page, but she is afraid. Of course she hasn't

really been faithless, and I could swear on my life she loves her

husband only. And then her sorrow is so great, and she is

beginning to look worn with lying awake at nights, though some

people still think she is beautiful. I dare say you will say,

serve her right for deceiving a good man. So do I sometimes, but I

feel strangely inconsistent about my poor friend, and a woman has

a right to be inconsistent, hasn't she? Tell me what I am to say

to her, and please don't spare her because she is a friend of

mine."




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