Then
he waited to spring his mine until I had written to say
that I had finally committed myself, on which by return
of post came his letter breaking the connection. It was
so long and so elaborate a course of deceit, that I
for the first time felt something like fear as I thought
of Cullingworth. It was as though in the guise and dress
of a man I had caught a sudden glimpse of something sub-
human--of something so outside my own range of thought
that I was powerless against it.
Well, I wrote him a little note--only a short one,
but with, I hope, a bit of a barb to it. I said that his
letter had been a source of gratification to me, as it
removed the only cause for disagreement between my mother
and myself. She had always thought him a blackguard, and
I had always defended him; but I was forced now to
confess that she had been right from the beginning. I
said enough to show him that I saw through his whole
plot; and I wound up by assuring him that if he thought
he had done me any harm he had made a great mistake; for
I had every reason to believe that he had unintentionally
forced me into the very opening which I had most desired
myself.
After this bit of bravado I felt better, and I
thought over the situation. I was alone in a strange
town, without connections, without introductions,
with less than a pound in my pocket, and with no
possibility of freeing myself from my responsibilities.
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