There I lay--see myself lying! wasting! Think what you can good of her, by all means! From her bed! despatches that Jarniman to me from her bedside, with the word, that she cannot in her conscience allow--what imposition was it I practised ?...

flagrant sin ?--it would have been an infinitely viler....

She is the cause of suffering enough: I bear no more from her; I've come to the limit.

She has heard of Lakelands: she has taken one of her hatreds to the place.

She might have written, might have sent me a gentleman, privately.