But no;--she could not send it. She could not even copy the words. And so she gave play to all her strongest feelings on the other side,-- being in truth torn in two directions. Then she sat herself down to her desk, and with rapid words, and flashing thoughts, wrote as follows:-PAUL MONTAGUE,-I have suffered many injuries, but of all injuries this is the worst and most unpardonable,--and the most unmanly. Surely there never was such a coward, never so false a liar. The poor wretch that I destroyed was mad with liquor and was only acting after his kind. Even Caradoc Hurtle never premeditated such wrong as this. What you are to bind yourself to me by the most solemn obligation that can join a man and a woman together, and then tell me,--when they have affected my whole life,--that they are to go for nothing, because they do not suit your view of things? On thinking over it, you find that an American wife would not make you so comfortable as some English girl;--and therefore it is all to go for nothing! I have no brother, no man near;--me or you would not dare to do this. You can not but be a coward.
You talk of compensation! Do you mean money? You do not dare to say so, but you must mean it. It is an insult the more. But as to retribution; yes. You shall suffer retribution. I desire you to come to me,--according to your promise,--and you will find me with a horsewhip in my hand. I will whip you till I have not a breath in my body. And then I will see what you will dare to do;--whether you will drag me into a court of law for the assault.
Yes; come. You shall come. And now you know the welcome you shall find. I will buy the whip while this is reaching you, and you shall find that I know how to choose such a weapon. I call upon you so come. But should you be afraid and break your promise, I will come to you. I will make London too hot to hold you;--and if I do not find you I will go with my story to every friend you have.
I have now told you as exactly as I can the condition of my mind.
WINIFRED HURTLE.
Having written this she again read the short note, and again gave way to violent tears. But on that day she sent no letter. On the following morning she wrote a third, and sent that. This was the third letter:-'Yes. Come. W. H.'