could know how you are avenged. Talk of the scourge--the cat! I would be
thankful for two dozen lashes. Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish
a man who has been cruel to a woman. Let him alone. He will punish
himself more than you can, if he is really a man."

From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture kept
cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared to have
been not entirely without its influence in sending Staines to sea,
though the main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have the comforts
and luxuries she had enjoyed before she married him.

One day, while she was crying over this diary, Uncle Philip called; but
not to comfort her, I promise you. He burst on her, irate, to take her
to task. He had returned, learned Christopher's departure, and settled
the reason in his own mind: that uxorious fool was gone to sea by a
natural reaction; his eyes were open to his wife at last, and he was
sick of her folly; so he had fled to distant climes, as who would not,
that could?

"SO, ma'am," said he, "my nephew is gone to sea, I find--all in a hurry.
Pray may I ask what he has done that for?"

It was a very simple question, yet it did not elicit a very plain
answer. She only stared at this abrupt inquisitor, and then cried,
piteously, "Oh, Uncle Philip!" and burst out sobbing.

"Why, what is the matter?"

"You WILL hate me now. He is gone to make money for ME; and I would
rather have lived on a crust. Uncle--don't hate me. I'm a poor,