Indeed, she felt that he had written, but had destroyed the letters.

And she was right; almost all the time he could spare from his efforts to save his father from a sick but obstinately active man's bad judgment was given to writing to her--formal letters which he tore up as too formal, passionate letters which he destroyed as unwarranted and unwise, when he had not yet, face to face, in words, told her his love and drawn from her what he believed was in her heart.

The days dragged; she kept away from Henrietta, from all "our set," lest they should read in her dejected countenance the truth, and more..