You are the only man I ever loved. And now, by means of this letter, I
am digging a fathomless pit between us. I am not the woman you thought
me; and my true self you could never love.
I am like a criminal who has had recourse to every deceit to avoid
confession, but whose strength gives way at last under the pressure of
threats and torture, and who finds unspeakable relief in declaring his
guilt.
Joergen Malthe, I have loved you for the last ten years; as long, in
fact, as you have loved me. I lied to you when I denied it; but my heart
has been faithful all through.
Had I remained any longer in Richard's house, I should have come to you
one day and asked you to let me be your mistress. Not your wife. Do not
contradict me. I am the stronger and wiser of the two.
To escape from this risk I ran away. I fled from my love--I fled, too,
from my age. I am now forty-three, you know it well, and you are only
thirty-five.
By this voluntary renunciation, I hoped to escape the curse that
advancing age brings to most women. Alas! This year has taught me that
we can neither deceive nor escape our destiny, since we carry it in our
hearts and temperaments.
Here I am, and here I shall remain, until I have grown to be quite an
old woman. Therefore, it is very foolish of me to pour out this
confession to you, for it cannot be otherwise than painful reading. But
I shall have no peace of mind until it is done.
My life has been poor. I have consumed my own heart.
* * * * *
As far as I am aware, my father, a widower, was a strictly honourable
man. Misfortune befell him, and his whole life was ruined in a moment.
An unexpected audit of the accounts of his firm revealed a deficiency.
My father had temporarily borrowed a small sum to save a friend in a
pressing emergency. Henceforward he was a marked man, at home and
abroad. We left the town where we lived. The retiring pension which was
granted to him in spite of what had happened sufficed for our daily
needs. He lived lost in his disgrace, and I was left entirely to the
care of a maid-servant. From her I gathered that our troubles were in
some way connected with a lack of money; and money became the idol of my
life.
I sometimes buried a coin that had been given me--as a dog buries his
bone. Then I lay awake all night, fearing I should not find it again in
the morning.