"But how can I, now, be held responsible for your unhappiness and unrest--for the malicious attitude, as you call it, of the world toward you? Years ago you felt that there existed some occult coalition against you, and that I was either privy to it or indifferent. I was not indifferent, but I did not believe there existed any reason for your suspicions. This was the beginning of my failure to understand you; I was sensible enough that we were unhappy, yet could not see any reason for it--could see no reason for the increasing restlessness and discontent which came over you like successive waves following some brief happy interval when your gaiety and beauty and wit fairly dazzled me and everybody who came near you. And then, always hateful and irresistible, followed the days of depression, of incomprehensible impulses, of that strange unreasoning resentment toward me. "What could I do? I don't for a moment say that there was nothing I might have done. Certainly there must have been something; but I did not know what. And often in my confusion and bewilderment I was quick-tempered, impatient to the point of exasperation--so utterly unable was I to understand wherein I was failing to make you contented. "Of course I could not shirk or avoid field duty or any of the details which so constantly took me away from you. Also I began to understand your impatience of garrison life, of the monotony of the place, of the climate, of the people. But all this, which I could not help, did not account for those dreadful days together when I could see that every minute was widening the breach between us. "Alixe--your letter has brought it all back, vivid, distressing, exasperating; and this time I _know_ that I could have done nothing to render you unhappy, because the time when I was responsible for such matters is past. "And this--forgive me if I say it--arouses a doubt in me--the first honest doubt I have had of my own unshared culpability. Perhaps after all a little more was due from you than what you brought to our partnership--a little more patience, a little more appreciation of my own inexperience and of my efforts to make you happy. You were, perhaps, unwittingly exacting--even a little bit selfish. And those sudden, impulsive caprices for a change of environment--an escape from the familiar--were they not rather hard on me who could do nothing--who had no choice in the matter of obedience to my superiors? "Again and again I asked you to go to some decent climate and wait for me until I could get leave. I stood ready and willing to make any arrangement for you, and you made no decision.