temperament. We have really nothing in common but our unfortunate middle
age and our sex; therefore, how can it help you to know what I should do
if I were in your place?

May I speak quite frankly without any fear of hurting your feelings? In
that case I will try to advise you; but I can only do so by making your
present situation quite clear to you. Only when you have faced matters
can you hope to decide upon some course of action which you will not
afterwards regret. Your letter is the queerest mixture of self-deception
and a desire to be quite frank. You try to throw dust in my eyes, while
at the same time you are betraying all that you are most anxious to
conceal. Judging from your letter, the maternal feeling is deeply
ingrained in your nature. You are prepared to fight for your children
and sacrifice yourself for them if necessary. You would put yourself
aside in order to secure for them a healthy and comfortable existence.

The real truth is that your conscience is pricking you with a remorse
that has been instigated by others. Maternal sentiment is not your
strong point; far from it. In your husband's lifetime you did not try to
make two and two amount to five; and you often showed very plainly that
your children were rather an encumbrance than otherwise. When at last
your affection for them grew, it was not because they were your own
flesh and blood, but because you were thrown into daily contact with
these little creatures whom you had to care for.

Now you have lost your head because the outlook is rather bad. Your
family, or rather your late husband's people, have attempted to coerce
you in a way that I consider entirely unjustifiable. And you have
allowed yourself to be bullied, and therefore, all unconsciously, have
given them some hold over your life and actions.