It seemed to my judgment, perhaps warped by sudden misfortune, that possibly my fiancee regretted her hasty promise, rued an engagement to one whose affairs had suddenly taken an attitude of so little promise.

I was a poor man now, and worse than poor, because lately I had been rich, as things went in my surroundings.

In this letter, I say, I had expected--I do not know what.

But certainly I had not expected to see sitting on the page written in my fiancee's hand, the face of another woman.

I hated myself for it.
The second letter was from my mother, and it left me still more disconcerted and sad.