Heavens above! but you were strong, my
Karl. I am not ugly, and yet you resisted, and I hated and loved you at
the same time--oh! I know that sounds impossible, but it isn't for a
woman. I slept little that night and, feeling that I could not look you
in the face in the morning, I left for Bruges before you got up.
I felt that I could trust you not to try and find out the secret of the
shooting-box.
What a relief it is to be able to tell you everything frankly, and how
I hated the perpetual game of deception which I had to play.
I used to rack my brains for answers to your perpetual question, "Why
won't you marry me?" It was a desperate risk taking you down to the
forest, but you loved me so much that you never questioned the reasons
I gave you for my secrecy. I can tell you now, Karl, that in the early
days when I used to disappear from Bruges, it was to the shooting-box
that I went.
But I will write more of that later.
Did you suffer the same agony as I did before you left for Kiel, and
your pride would not allow you to come to me? You understand now, my
darling, why I could never marry you, and when the Colonel was killed
it became harder than ever. Once during that terrible interview before
you went up the Russian coast, I nearly gave way and promised to marry
you. But how could I? I had sworn my vow, and even to-night, though I
stand in the shadow of death, I do not regret my vow.
It is inconceivable that I could have married you and carried on my
work--a spy on my husband's country--and if I ever thought of trying to
do this impossible thing, a vision which has partially come true always
restrained me.
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