And those sudden, impulsive caprices for a change of environment--an escape from the familiar--were they not rather hard on me who could do nothing--who had no choice in the matter of obedience to my superiors?
"Again and again I asked you to go to some decent climate and wait for me until I could get leave.

I stood ready and willing to make any arrangement for you, and you made no decision.
"Then when Barnard's command moved out we had our last distressing interview.

And, if that night I spoke of your present husband and asked you to be a little wiser and use a little more discretion to avoid malicious comment--it was not because I dreamed of distrusting you--it was merely for your own guidance and because you had so often complained of other people's gossip about you.
"To say I was stunned, crushed, when I learned of what had happened in my absence, is to repeat a trite phrase.

What it cost me is of no consequence now; what it is now costing you I cannot help.
"Yet, your letter, in every line, seems to imply some strange responsibility on my part for what you speak of as the degrading position you now occupy.
"Degradation or not--let us leave that aside; you cannot now avoid being his wife.

But as for any hostile attitude of society in your regard--any league or coalition to discredit you--that is not apparent to me.