I love you very much—just as much as ever. I always want you to feel sure of that. But my love isn't the kind you've asked for. It never can be. Because of this there are so many things that I've not been able
to tell you—so I've been avoiding and deceiving you ever since you came back. I know I've not been honorable. A promise once given ought to be sacred; I gave you my promise that I would marry you. But that's all I could do for you now—just marry you; I couldn't give you the other things you would have a right to expect. I ought to have said, the other things you have earned and deserved more than any man. So, though I married you, I should still be robbing you, which would be even more treacherous than not fulfilling a promise.
That I'm in love with General Braithwaite is no news to you. Love may not be the proper word. At least I'm so infatuated with him that there's no room in my heart for any other man. Do you remember that night in March, when you dined with us and asked my father for my hand, and next morning early I came round in a panic to your house? I didn't dare tell you all my trouble. The General had urged me to elope with him. I wish, wish, wish that I had. I should be his now and sure of him. By delaying and suspecting I've all but lost him.
I always knew that he would be a big man—as big after the war as he was while it lasted. What this morning's papers say about him proves it. So for all these reasons and because I can't bear to face you at the Castle, I'm taking my fate in my hands. Please tell Lady Dawn that I shan't be back and excuse me in any way you can. I'm only carrying one small bag; she can send the rest of my things after me.
There's one request I have to make—that neither of you will notify my father till at least twenty-four hours have elapsed. All my future happiness may depend on your granting this request. It's the last favor I shall ever ask you.
And now, my very dear Tabs, almost my brother, if this hurts you, please take revenge by bundling me out of your mind. I was never your equal, never worthy of you, though you placed me on a pedestal that was
far above you. Comfort yourself by believing that if you'd married me, you would have found this out. What a wretched quitter I appear in my own eyes after all you suffered in the trenches, to have reserved this worse suffering for you, when your life has been spared and you had counted on me for happiness. My entire body's not worth your little finger. And yet how good you've always been to me—
You'll get a better woman than I am. I think I already know who she'll be; if I'm right, I shall be so very glad.
I feel so humble—so apologetic. It's such a different ending from the one we dreamt when I saw you off on the troop-train with my hair all blowy down my back. There's nothing gained by recalling that. I meant so well by you; you've always been so much to me, my dearest, loyal Tabs.
Even though you despise me, I still insist on signing myself,