"I have followed you pretty closely for some weeks. I can not tell why,
except that once I was madly in love with you, and perhaps I am still--I
hardly know. But I am a gentleman, and not a fool either. And when a
man sees a woman cares no more for him than she does for the dust
under her feet, why, if he keeps on caring for her, he's a fool.
"The purport of this letter is, therefore, nothing to which you can have
the slightest objection, it being merely a warning. There is a young
woman in Avonsbridge, Susan Bennett by name, who, from an
unfortunate slip of the tongue of mine, hates you, as all women do hate
one another (except one woman, whom I once had the honor of meeting
every day for four weeks, which fact may have made me a less bad
fellow than I used to be, God knows--if there is a God, and if He does
know any thing). Well, what I had to say is, beware of Susan Bennett,
and beware of another person, who thinks herself much superior to
Bennett, and yet they are as like as two peas--Miss Gascoigne. Defend
yourself; you may need it. And as the best way to defend you, I mean
immediately to leave Avonsbridge--perhaps for personal reasons also,
discretion being the better part of valor, and you being so confoundedly
like an angel still.
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