This eBook was produced by David Widger
By Edward Bulwer-Lytton
At last I can give a more favourable answer to your letters. Emily isnow quite out of danger. Since the day you forced yourself, with such adisinterested regard for her health and reputation, into her room, shegrew (no thanks to your forbearance) gradually better. I trust that shewill be able to see you in a few days. I hope this the more, because shenow feels and decides that it will be for the last time. You have, it istrue, injured her happiness for life her virtue, thank Heaven, is yetspared; and though you have made her wretched, you will never, I trust,succeed in making her despised.
You ask me, with some menacing and more complaint, why I am so bitteragainst you. I will tell you. I not only know Emily, and feelconfident, from that knowledge, that nothing can recompense her for thereproaches of conscience, but I know you, and am convinced that you arethe last man to render her happy. I set aside, for the moment, all rulesof religion and morality in general, and speak to you (to use the cantand abused phrase) "without prejudice" as to the particular instance.Emily's nature is soft and susceptible, yours fickle and wayward in theextreme. The smallest change or caprice in you, which would not benoticed by a mind less delicate, would wound her to the heart. You knowthat the very softness of her character arises from its want of strength.Consider, for a moment, if she could bear the humiliation and disgracewhich visit so heavily the offences of an English wife? She has beenbrought up in the strictest notions of morality; and, in a mind, notnaturally strong, nothing can efface the first impressions of education.She is not—indeed she is not—fit for a life of sorrow or degradation.In another character, another line of conduct might be desirable; butwith regard to her, pause, Falkland, I beseech you, before you attemptagain to destroy her for ever. I have said all. Farewell.
Your, and above all, Emily's friend.
You will see me, Emily, now that you are recovered sufficiently to do sowithout danger. I do not ask this as a favour. If my love has deserved,anything from yours, if past recollections give me any claim over you, ifmy nature has not forfeited the spell which it formerly possessed uponyour own, I demand it as a right.
The bearer waits for your answer.
See you, Falkland! Can you doubt it? Can you think for a moment thatyour commands can ever cease to become a law to me? Come here wheneveryou please. If, during my illness, they have prevented it, it waswithout my knowledge. I await you; but I own that this interview willbe the last, if I can claim anything from your mercy.
I have seen you, Emily, and for the last time! My eyes are dry—my handdoes not tremble. I live, move, breathe, as before—and yet I have seenyou for the last time! You told me—even while you leaned on my bosom,even while your lip pressed mine—you told me (and I saw your sincerity)to spare you, and to see you no more. You told me you had no longer anywill, any fate of your own; that you would, if I still continued todesire it, leave friends, home, honour, for me; but you did not disguisefrom me that you would,