I dreaded to
hear what he had to tell, lest, in spite of my confidence in him, it
should really be a thing which, if made public, must bring ruin. During
the evenings of these days he wrote much in his diary--the very book that
lies by me now. Writing seemed a relief to him, for he was more cheerful
afterwards. I know that he had received letters from the summer hotel,
but whether they were from Mrs. Falchion or Justine Caron I was not then
aware, though I afterwards came to know that one of them was from
Justine, asking him if she might call on him. He guessed that the request
was connected with Hector Caron's death; and, of course, gave his
consent. During this time he did not visit Ruth Devlin, nor did he
mention her name. As for myself, I was sick of the whole business, and
wished it well over, whatever the result.
I make here a few extracts from Roscoe's diary, to show the state of his
mind at this period:
Can a man never get away from the consequences of his wickedness,
even though he repents? . . . Restitution is necessary as well
as repentance; but when one cannot make restitution, when it is
impossible--what then? I suppose one has to reply, Well, you have
to suffer, that is all.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330