"Dear Mrs. Ashton, I cannot sleep until I have said to you that in my
case the very contrary is the fact. A more abject, humiliated man than
I stand at this hour in my own eyes never yet took his sins upon his
soul. Even you might be appeased if you could look into mine and see
its sense of degradation.
"That my punishment has already come home to me is only just; that I
shall have to conceal it from all the world, including my wife, will
not lessen its sting.
"I have this evening married Maude Kirton. I might tell you of unfair
play brought to bear upon me, of a positive assurance, apparently well
grounded, that Anne had entered into an engagement to wed another,
could I admit that these facts were any excuse for me. They are no
excuse; not the slightest palliation. My own yielding folly alone is
to blame, and I shall take shame to myself for ever.
"I write this to you as I might have written it to my own mother, were
she living; not as an expiation; only to tell of my pain; that I am not
utterly hardened; that I would sue on my knees for pardon, were it not
shut out from me by my own act. There is no pardon for such as I. When
you have torn it in pieces, you will, I trust, forget the writer.
"God bless you, dear Mrs. Ashton! God bless and comfort another who is
dear to you!--and believe me with true undying remorse your once
attached friend,
"Hartledon.
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