"Quite a little letter," he said. "Pray read it."
This is what I read:
"You must have seen for yourself that I was incapable of insulting you and Miss Cristel by an outbreak of jealousy, when I found you together just now. Only remember that we all have our weaknesses, and that it is my hard lot to be in a state of contest with the inherited evil which is the calamity of my life. With your encouragement, I may resist temptation in the future, and keep the better part of me in authority over my thoughts and actions. But, be on your guard, and advise Miss Cristel to be on her guard, against false appearances. As we all know, they lie like truth. Consider me. Pity me. I ask no more."
Straightforward and manly and modest—I appeal to any unprejudiced mind whether I should not have committed a mean action, if I had placed an evil construction on this?
"Am I understood?" he asked.
I signed to him to give me his book, and relieved him of anxiety in these words:
"If I had failed to understand you, I should have felt ashamed of myself. May I show what you have written to Cristel?"
He smiled, more sweetly and pleasantly than I had seen him smile yet.
"If you wish it," he answered. "I leave it entirely to you. Thank you—and good morning."
Having advanced a few steps on his way to the cottage, he paused, and reminded me of the tea-drinking: "Don't forget to-morrow evening, at seven o'clock."