by what power and passion and talents I have, and filled you with a
hunger for me--when really you do not realize at all what I am, or
what I must be, and when what I have to do will terrify you. I write
in the thought of terrifying you _now_, and making you give up this
red-hot iron that you are trying to hold on to; or else to show you
my life so plainly that never afterwards can you blame me, or shrink
back except by your own fault.

You must not blame me for writing these words, for wondering if a
woman, if _any_ woman has power to stand what I need to do. And when
I talk to you about giving me up, you must not think that is cold,
but know that it is my faithfulness to my vision, which is the one
thing to which I owe any duty in the world. Nor is it right that you
should expect to be essential to me, when I have labored to be all
to myself. You could become necessary to me in the years to come; if
I marry you to-day I shall marry you for what you are to become, and
for that _alone_--at any rate if I am true to myself.

If you are to be my wife you are to be my soul--to live my soul's
life and bear its pain. You are to understand that I talk to you as
I talk to myself, call you the names I call myself, and if you cry,
give you up in disgust; that I am to deny you all pleasure as I do
myself, and what God knows will be ten thousand times harder, let
you take pleasure, and then spring up in the very midst of it--you
know what I mean! That I am to be ever dissatisfied with you, ever
inconsiderate of your feelings, and ever declaring that you are
failing! That however much I may love you, I am to be your
conscience, and therefore keep you--just about as you are now,
miserable! You told me that you would gladly be whipped to learn to
live; and this can be the only thing to happen to you.