"Such a letter as that! Do you remember that letter, Caroline?"
"Yes, I remember it; remember it too well; I would not keep it. I would not feel that such words from you were ever by me."
"You mean that it was harsh?"
"It was cruel."
"Harsh or cruel, or what you will—I shall not now stop to defend it—it was one which from the very nature of it should have been sacred between us. It was written to you as to one to whom I had a right to write as my future wife."
"No one could have a right to write such a letter as that."
"In it, I particularly begged that Mr. Harcourt might not be made an arbiter between us. I made a special request that to him, at least, you would not talk of what causes of trouble there might be between us; and yet you selected him as your confidant, read it with him, poured over with him the words which had come hot from my heart, discussed with him my love—my—my—my— Bah! I cannot endure it; had not you yourself told me so, I could not have believed it."
"George!—"
"Good God! that you should take my letters and read them over with him! Why, Caroline, it admits but of one solution; there is but one reading to the riddle; ask all the world."
"We sent for him as your friend."