Strange and cruel destiny! When everything depended apon my firmness,
I was overwhelmed by feebleness. It seemed as if I had not before
believed that this terrible moment of confirmation would come.
And yet, if anybody could have been prepared for such a discovery,
I should have been. I had brooded over it for months. A thousand
times had my imagination pictured it to me in the most vivid
and fearful aspect. I fancied that I should have been steeled by
conviction against every other feeling but that of vengeance. But
in reality, my hope was so sanguine, my love for Julia so fervent,
I did not, amidst all my fears, really believe that such a thing
could ever prove true. All my boasted planning and preparation,
and espionage, had only deceived myself. I believed, at worst, that
Julia might be brought to love William Edgerton,--but that he would
presume to give utterance to his love, and that she would submit
to listen, was not truly within my belief. I had not been prepared
for this, however much, in my last interview with Kingsley, I had
professed myself to be.
But had she submitted? That was still a question. I had seen
nothing beyond what I have stated. His audacious hand had rested
upon hers--his impious arm had encircled her waist, and then
my blindness and darkness followed. I was struck as completely
senseless, and fell from the tree with as little seeming life, as
if a sudden bullet had traversed my heart.
In this state I lay. How long I know not--it must have been for
several hours. I was brought to consciousness by a sense of cold.
I was benumbed--a steady rain was falling, and from the condition
of my clothes, which were completely saturated, must have been
falling for some time previous. I rose with pain and difficulty to
my feet. I was still as one stunned and stupified, by one of those
extremes of suffering for which the overcharged heart can find no
sufficient or sufficiently rapid method of relief. When I rose,
the light was no longer in the parlor. The parties were withdrawn.
Horrible thought! That I should have failed at that trying moment.
I knew everything--I knew nothing. It was still possible that Julia
had repulsed him. I had seen HIS audacity only--was it followed by
HER guilt? How shall that be known? I could answer this question
as Kingsley would have answered it.
"If your wife be honest, she must now reveal the truth. She can
no longer forbear. The proceeding of Edgerton has been too decided,
and she shares his guilt if she longer keeps it secret. The wife
who submits to this form of insult, without seeking protection where
alone it may be found, clearly shows that the offence is grateful
to her--that she deems it no insult."