"I have been deeply pained for a long time at the recklessness with
which you receive total strangers as visitors, and admit them to your
confidence. I have already warned you, but my warnings were received by
you in such a manner as to prevent my encountering another interview.

"I write now to inform you that for your own sake, your own future, and
your own good name, it is my fixed intention to put a stop to these
interviews. This must be done, whatever may be the cost. You must
understand from this that there is nothing left for you but to obey.

"If after this you allow these adventurers one single interview more, I
shall be under the unpleasant necessity of limiting your freedom to an
extent that may be painful to you, and even still more so to myself.

"Yours, JOHN WIGGINS."

Edith read this letter over and over again, with many mingled feelings.
Wiggins had left her so much to herself of late that she had begun to
count upon his continued inaction, and supposed that he was too much
afraid of Dudleigh to interfere, or to make any opposition whatever to
his visits. Now, however, she saw that he had made up his mind to
action, and she fully believed that he was not the man who would make
any idle menace.

The thing that offended Edith most in this letter was what she
considered its insolence. Its tone was that of a superior addressing an
inferior--a patron speaking to a dependent. At this all the stubborn
pride of Edith's nature was outraged, and rose in rebellion; but above
all was that pride stimulated by the word "obey."