The reason I'm not coming to say good-bye to you is that I think
you'll love me better if I don't. My self-control is wearing quite
thin in spots, and I'm so tired of explaining myself (when there's
nothing to explain except that I am doing what seems right in my own
eyes) that sometimes I think I shall just die before I get started.
Uncle Ben, did n't you ever long for a life that fitted you exactly,--
a life that was the flexible, soft garment of your very Self? I am
laying aside a life that is somewhat cumbrous for me, and going to
one that, fits me like a glove.
{97}
And it is n't as if my case were like other people's, or as if
Arthur Markham was n't the finest of the fine. He is as good in his
widely different way as Arnold is. I think myself a highly fortunate
woman that two such lives are offered me to choose from--but I must
choose the one that belongs to me. Temperament is destiny. I am
following mine. I am doing what I wish to do. But I don't like the
way people hinder me with arguments that have nothing to do with the
real content of the matter. So I am saying good-bye at arm's length
to the dearest old make-believe cynic of an uncle that ever lived.
Because you know, Uncle Ben, that if you had me there you could n't
help preaching to me, and I am tired of preaching. It does n't get
one anywhere. And it does n't keep one away--from Reno, Nevada.
{98}
I suppose it's a queer thing to say but, really, you'll like Arthur
just as well as you do Arnold--if only you can bring your mind to it!