incarnation of the thing itself exhibited by her.

At first he did not take his eyes from the papers; when he raised them, he
was struck by the wretchedness manifest on her altered cheek; for a moment
he forgot his own acts and fears, and asked with consternation--"Dearest
girl, what is the matter; what has happened?"

"Nothing," she replied at first; "and yet not so," she continued, hurrying
on in her speech; "you have secrets, Raymond; where have you been lately,
whom have you seen, what do you conceal from me?--why am I banished from
your confidence? Yet this is not it--I do not intend to entrap you with
questions--one will suffice--am I completely a wretch?"

With trembling hand she gave him the paper, and sat white and motionless
looking at him while he read it. He recognised the hand-writing of Evadne,
and the colour mounted in his cheeks. With lightning-speed he conceived the
contents of the letter; all was now cast on one die; falsehood and artifice
were trifles in comparison with the impending ruin. He would either
entirely dispel Perdita's suspicions, or quit her for ever. "My dear girl,"
he said, "I have been to blame; but you must pardon me. I was in the wrong
to commence a system of concealment; but I did it for the sake of sparing
you pain; and each day has rendered it more difficult for me to alter my
plan. Besides, I was instigated by delicacy towards the unhappy writer of
these few lines."

Perdita gasped: "Well," she cried, "well, go on!"

"That is all--this paper tells all. I am placed in the most difficult
circumstances. I have done my best, though perhaps I have done wrong. My
love for you is inviolate."