"Evelyn, Dear,--How is it faring with you, I wonder, in your grey London
world, while I laze beneath Italian skies? It is a rest to know that
you understand my silence, and don't need to be reminded that it does
not mean forgetfulness. That big heart of yours can be very patient and
forbearing. I have good cause to know that, but I also know that no one
in the world more keenly enjoys a word of love and appreciation, so
here's a confession for you, dear. Read it, lock it up in your heart,
and never, never refer to it in words! This is it, then. During these
last weeks, when I have been fighting the old battle of the last six
years, I have discovered to my surprise, and--let me confess it--dismay,
that my point of view has strangely altered. I still consider that I
have been the victim of one of the cruellest deceptions which a woman
could endure; I still believe that in that first ghastly hour of
discovery, flight was justified and natural, but--Well, Evelyn, dear! I
have been living for months in very close intimacy with a little girl
who thinks no evil, and is always ready to find a good explanation for
what may on the surface appear to be unkind, and it has had its effect.
"I keep asking myself, `In my place, what would Evelyn have done?' and
the answer disturbs my sleep. You are impulsive, my dear, and your
temper is not beyond reproach. If you loved deeply you would be
exacting, and would fiercely resent deceit. You would have run away
even more impetuously than I did myself, but--but--you would not have
kept up your resentment for six long years, or refused the offender a
right to speak! If I know my Evelyn, before a month had passed her
heart would have softened, and she would be turning special pleader in
his defence, racking her brain for extenuating explanations. And if
there had been none--I can imagine you, Evelyn, shouldering your burden
with a set, gallant little face, going back to your husband, and saying
to yourself, `Am I a coward to be daunted by the failure of one little
month? He married me for my money--very well, he shall have his price!
I will give it to him, freely and willingly, but I will give him other
things too--companionship, interest, sympathy, so that in time to come
he shall love me for myself! I am young and pretty and intelligent--I
can do it if I care enough to be patient and unselfish. I married him
for better or worse. With God's help, I will turn this "worse" into
"better" before our lives are done!'
"Oh, I assure you, my dear, I cut a poor figure in my own eyes, when I
contrast my conduct with what yours would have been in my place. If we
had met years ago things might have gone differently, but now it is too
late. Too late for apologies and recantations, that is to say, for they
would not be acceptable, even if I could bring myself to the point of
offering them. This sounds as if your example had had no real effect
after all, but it is not so. Outward circumstances may remain the same,
but some of the inward bitterness has gone! Do you remember the old
fairy story about the unfortunate king who had three iron bands clamped
tightly round his heart? It was the result of a spell, of course, and
the only thing which could break their hold was when some mortal did
some really fine and noble deed, then with a great bang one of the bands
broke loose and conveniently disappeared.
"Well, dear little girl, if your present crack-brained mission is not
working out to your satisfaction, if your neighbours in the `Mansions'
(?) are unappreciative or appreciative in objectionable ways--comfort
yourself with the reflection that your sweet example has burst one of
Charmion's iron bands. I think on reflection one might almost say
_two_, and that she daily blesses you for the relief!
"I can't send you an address. I have no idea where I am going next, but
before very long you will see me again. I'll burst in upon you some
day, with a Paris hat on my head (and another in my box for a pretty
friend!) and snatch you away from your fads and fancies, and carry you
off to `Pastimes,' to gloat over, all to myself! Don't have anything to
say to any presumptuous man who may try to lure you away. For the
period of our lease you belong to me, and I am not going to give you up.
"Charmion."
I smiled, wiped a furtive tear, and carefully folded up the sheet. It
_did_ comfort me to know that I had helped Charmion. I thought happily
of seeing her again, of all the long interesting talks we would have
together.
Incidentally I thought of our lease. If we paid a penalty, we could
break it at three years.