Berenice, with trembling fingers, broke the seal and read the letter. It
was from Herman Brudenell, and ran as follows:

"London, December 1, 18--

"Lady Hurstmonceux: If there is one element of saving comfort in
my lost, unhappy life, it is the reflection that, though in an evil
hour I made you my wife, you are not called by my name; but that
the courtesy of custom continues to you the title won by your first
marriage with the late Earl of Hurstmonceux; and that you cannot
therefore so deeply dishonor my family.

"Madam, it would give me great pain to write to any other woman,
however guilty, as I am forced to write to you; because on any
woman I should feel that I was inflicting suffering, which you know
too well I have not--never had the nerve to do; but you, I know,
cannot be hurt; you are callous. If your early youth had not shown
you to be so, the last few years of your life would have proved it.
If you had not been so insensible to shame as you are to remorse,
how could you, after your great crime, take possession of my house
and, by so doing, turn my mother and sisters from their home and
banish me from my country? For well you know that, while you live
at Brudenell Hall, my family cannot re-enter its walls! Nay,
more--while you choose to reside in America, I must remain an exile
in Europe. The same hemisphere is not broad enough to contain the
Countess of Hurstmonceux and Herman Brudenell.

"I have given you a long time to come to your senses and leave my
house. Now my patience is exhausted, and I require you to depart.
You are not embarrassed for a home or a support: if you were I