“Yes, if she be resolved to defend herself in open court. He will not sanction a course that involves so much disgrace of herself and family.”
“Has she shown him the letter you saw?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I think she is afraid to let it go out of her hands.”
“She might trust it with her father, surely,” said I.
“Her father has been very hard with her; and seems to take the worst for granted. He evidently believes that it is in the power of Dewey to prove her guilty; and that if she makes any opposition to his application for a divorce, he will hold her up disgraced before the world.”
“This letter might open his eyes.”
“The letter is no defence of her; only a witness against him. It does not prove her innocence. If it did, then it would turn toward her a father's averted face. In court its effect will be to throw doubt upon the sincerity of her husband's motives, and to show that he had a reason, back of alleged infidelity, for wishing to be divorced from his wife.”
“I declare, Constance!” said I, looking at my wife in surprise, “you have taken upon yourself a new character. I think the case is safe in your hands, and that Mrs. Dewey wants no more judicious friend. If you were a man, you might conduct the defence for her to a successful issue.”