As soon as Adolphus had retired (with undissembled contempt of
the shaky signature) I tore open the packet, and as I drew out a letter
a tiny box dropped on the table.
The letter was all too short, and I devoured it over and over again with
the eagerness of a condemned man reading a reprieve:--
"My Dear Paul,
"Forgive me for leaving you so abruptly this afternoon, and leaving you
so unhappy, too. I am more sane and reasonable now, and so send you
greeting and beg you not to grieve for that which can never be. It is
quite impossible, dear friend, and I entreat you, as you care for me,
never to speak of it again; never again to make me feel that I can give
so little when you have given so much. And do not try to see me for a
little while. I shall miss your visits, and so will my father, who is
very fond of you; but it is better that we should not meet, until we can
take up the old relations--if that can ever be.
"I am sending you a little keepsake in case we should drift apart on
the eddies of life. It is the ring that I told you about--the one that
my uncle gave me.
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