At the end of his letter he had told her to go to Mrs. Hurtle herself if she wanted corroboration of the story as told by him. Of course he had known when he wrote it that she could not and would not go to Mrs. Hurtle. But when the letter had been in her possession three or four days,--unanswered, for, as a matter of course, no answer to it from herself was possible,--and had been read and re-read till she knew every word of it by heart, she began to think that if she could hear the story as it might be told by Mrs. Hurtle, a good deal that was now dark might become light to her. As she continued to read the letter, and to brood over it all, by degrees her anger was turned from her lover to her mother, her brother, and to her cousin Roger. Paul had of course behaved badly, very badly,--but had it not been for them she might have had an opportunity of forgiving him. They had driven her on to the declaration of a purpose from which she could now see no escape. There had been a plot against her, and she was a victim. In the first dismay and agony occasioned by that awful story of the American woman,--which had, at the moment, struck her with a horror which was now becoming less and less every hour,--she had fallen head foremost into the trap laid for her. She acknowledged to herself that it was too late to recover her ground. She was, at any rate, almost sure that it must be too late. But yet she was disposed to do battle with her mother and her cousin in the matter--if only with the object of showing that she would not submit her own feelings to their control. She was savage to the point of rebellion against all authority. Roger Carbury would of course think that any communication between herself and Mrs. Hurtle must be most improper,--altogether indelicate. Two or three days ago she thought so herself. But the world was going so hard with her, that she was beginning to feel herself capable of throwing propriety and delicacy to the winds. This man whom she had once accepted, whom she altogether loved, and who, in spite of all his faults, certainly still loved her,--of that she was beginning to have no further doubt,--accused her of dishonesty, and referred her to her rival for a corroboration of his story. She would appeal to Mrs. Hurtle. The woman was odious, abominable, a nasty intriguing American female. But her lover desired that she should hear the woman's story; and she would hear the story,--if the woman would tell it.

At the end of his letter he had told her to go to Mrs. Hurtle herself if she wanted corroboration of his story. Of course he knew that she could not go to Mrs. Hurtle. But when the letter had been in her possession three or four days - unanswered, but constantly re-read - she began to think that if she could hear Mrs. Hurtle's story, a good deal that was now dark might become light to her.
As she continued to brood over the letter, by degrees her anger turned from her lover to her mother, her brother, and to her cousin Roger. Paul had of course behaved very badly - but had it not been for them, she might have had an opportunity of forgiving him. They had driven her on to a rejection from which she could now see no escape. In the first agony caused by that awful story of the American woman, she had fallen head foremost into the trap laid for her.
She was almost sure that it was too late to recover her ground. But she could still do battle with her mother and her cousin - if only to show that she would not submit her feelings to their control. She was savage against all authority. Roger Carbury would of course think that any communication between herself and Mrs. Hurtle must be most improper and indelicate. But she was beginning to feel herself capable of throwing propriety and delicacy to the winds.
She would appeal to Mrs. Hurtle. The woman was odious, a nasty scheming American female. But Paul desired that she should hear the woman's story.
