’Sophia, as you well know, followed me to India.  She was as innocent as gay; but, unfortunately for us both, as gay as innocent.  My own manners were partly formed by studies I had forsaken, and habits of seclusion not quite consistent with my situation as commandant of a regiment in a country where universal hospitality is offered and expected by every settler claiming the rank of a gentleman.  In a moment of peculiar pressure (you know how hard we were sometimes run to obtain white faces to countenance our line-of-battle), a young man named Brown joined our regiment as a volunteer, and, finding the military duty more to his fancy than commerce, in which he had been engaged, remained with us as a cadet.  Let me do my unhappy victim justice:  he behaved with such gallantry on every occasion that offered that the first vacant commission was considered as his due.  I was absent for some weeks upon a distant expedition; when I returned I found this young fellow established quite as the friend of the house, and habitual attendant of my wife and daughter.  It was an arrangement which displeased me in many particulars, though no objection could be made to his manners or character.  Yet I might have been reconciled to his familiarity in my family, but for the suggestions of another.  If you read over—­what I never dare open—­ the play of “Othello,” you will have some idea of what followed—­ I mean of my motives; my actions, thank God! were less reprehensible.  There was another cadet ambitious of the vacant situation.  He called my attention to what he led me to term coquetry between my wife and this young man.  Sophia was virtuous, but proud of her virtue; and, irritated by my jealousy, she was so imprudent as to press and encourage an intimacy which she saw I disapproved and regarded with suspicion.  Between Brown and me there existed a sort of internal dislike.  He made an effort or two to overcome my prejudice; but, prepossessed as I was, I placed them to a wrong motive.  Feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn, he desisted; and as he was without family and friends, he was naturally more watchful of the deportment of one who had both.

’It is odd with what torture I write this letter.  I feel inclined, nevertheless, to protract the operation, just as if my doing so could put off the catastrophe which has so long embittered my life.  But—­it must be told, and it shall be told briefly.

’My wife, though no longer young, was still eminently handsome, and—­let me say thus far in my own justification-she was fond of being thought so—­I am repeating what I said before.  In a word, of her virtue I never entertained a doubt; but, pushed by the artful suggestions of Archer, I thought she cared little for my peace of mind, and that the young fellow Brown paid his attentions in my despite, and in defiance of me.  He perhaps considered me, on his part, as an oppressive aristocratic man, who made my rank in society and in the army the