“There is a letter,” she said at last.  “She left a letter for you.”

Mannering rose slowly to his feet and moved to the lamp.  Directly he had broken the seal he understood.  He read the first line and looked up.  His eyes met Hester’s.

“Who knows—­this?” he asked, hoarsely.

“No one!  They had not been gone two hours.  I explained everything.”

Then Mannering read on.

  “My dear Husband: 

“I call you that for the last time, for I am going off with Englehall to Paris.  Don’t be too shocked, and don’t despise me too much.  I am just a very ordinary woman, and I’m afraid I’ve bad blood in my veins.  Anyhow, I can’t go on living under a glass case any longer.  The old life was rotten enough, but this is insupportable.  I’m going to have a fling, and after that I don’t care what becomes of me.

“Now, Lawrence, I don’t want you to blame yourself.  I did think perhaps that when we were married I might have got you to care for me a little, but I suppose that was just my vanity.  It wasn’t very possible with a woman like—­well, never mind who—­about.  You did your best.  You were very nice and very kind to me last night, but it wasn’t the real thing, was it?  I knew you hated being where you were.  I could almost hear your sigh of relief when I let you go.  The fact of it is, our marriage was a mistake.  I ought to have been satisfied with your name, I suppose, and the position it gave me, but I’m not that sort of woman.  I’ve been in Bohemia too long.  I like cheery friends, even if their names are not in Debrett, and I must have some one to care for me, or to pretend to care for me.  You know I’ve cared for you—­only you in a certain way—­but I’m not heroic enough to be content with a shadowy love.  I’m not an idealist.  Imagination doesn’t content me in the least.  I’d rather have an inferior substance than ideal perfection.  You see, I’m a very commonplace person at heart, Lawrence—­almost vulgar.  But these are my last words to you, so I’ve gone in for plain speaking.  Now you’re rid of me.

“That’s all!  From your point of view I suppose, and your friends, I’ve gone to the devil.  Don’t be too sure of it.  I’m going to have a good time, and when the end comes I’m willing to pay.  If you are idiotic enough to come after me, I shall be angry with you for the first time in my life, and it wouldn’t be the least bit of use.  Englehall’s an old friend of mine, and he’s a good sort.  He’s wanted me to do this often enough for years, but I never felt quite like it.  I believe he’d marry me after, but he’s got a wife shut up somewhere.

“I expect you think this a callous sort of letter.  Well, I can’t help it.  If it disgusts you with me, so much the better.  I’m sorry for the scandal, but you will get over that.  Good-bye, Lawrence.  Forgive me all the bother I’ve been to you.

  “Blanche.”