Having left her after that fashion Paul Montague could not return home with very high spirits. Had she insisted on his taking that letter with the threat of the horsewhip as the letter which she intended to write to him,--that letter which she had shown him, owning it to be the ebullition of her uncontrolled passion, and had then destroyed,--he might at any rate have consoled himself with thinking that, however badly he might have behaved, her conduct had been worse than his. He could have made himself warm and comfortable with anger, and could have assured himself that under any circumstances he must be right to escape from the clutches of a wild cat such as that. But at the last moment she had shown that she was no wild cat to him. She had melted, and become soft and womanly. In her softness she had been exquisitely beautiful; and as he returned home he was sad and dissatisfied with himself. He had destroyed her life for her,--or, at least, had created a miserable episode in it which could hardly be obliterated. She had said that she was all alone, and had given up everything to follow him,--and he had believed her. Was he to do nothing for her now? She had allowed him to go, and after her fashion had pardoned him the wrong he had done her. 
Paul returned home in low spirits. If she had insisted on his taking that letter with the threat of the horsewhip, he might at least have consoled himself with thinking that, however badly he had behaved, her conduct had been worse. He could have made himself warm and comfortable with anger, and could have assured himself that he was right to escape from the clutches of such a wild cat.
But at the last moment she had been no wild cat to him. She had melted, and become soft and womanly, and exquisitely beautiful; and he returned home sad and dissatisfied with himself. He had destroyed her life. She had said that she was all alone, and had given up everything to follow him. Was he to do nothing for her now?
