The Damning Letter

Mrs Porterfield, good old lady, half blind, half deaf, infirm and
gouty, but very good natured, easily complied with my request to
accommodate my friend. My friend!--She soon put one of her bed-rooms in
order, and Edgerton was in quiet possession of it sometime before
the pedestrians came home. When my wife was told of what I had
done, she was perfectly aghast. Her air of chagrin was well put on
and excellently worn. But she said nothing. Kingsley wore a face
of unusual gravity.

"You are either the most wilful or the most indifferent husband
in the world," was his whispered remark to me as he bade me good
night, refusing to remain for supper.

I said something to my wife about tending Edgerton--seeing to his
wants--nursing him if he remained unwell, and so forth She looked
at me with a face of intense sadness, but made no reply.

"She is too happy for speech," said my demon; "and such faces are
easily made for such an occasion."

I went in to Edgerton after a brief space; I found him feeble,
complaining of chill. His hands felt feverish. I advised quiet and
sent off for a physician. I sat with him until the physician came,
but I observed that my presence seemed irksome to him. He answered
me in monosyllables only; his eyes, meanwhile, being averted, his
countenance that of one excessively weary and impatient for release.
The physician prescribed and left him, as I did myself. I thought
he needed repose and desired to be alone. To my great surprise he
followed me in less than half an hour into the supper-room, where
he stubbornly sat out the evening. He refused to take the physic
prescribed for him and really did not now appear to need it. His
eyes were lighted up with unusual animation, his cheeks had an
improved color, and without engaging very actively in the conversation,
what he said was said with a degree of spirit quite uncommon with
him during the latter days of our intimacy.