The San Francisco call., 1904-02-14


the writing of women exhibits certain
phenomena more determinably than
that of men) those of the prettiest or
otherwise most attractive. And out
upon the lover who does not recognize
his mistress's hand at the first glimpse
ever he has of it, without post mark or
other information to aid him! Thus
Vanrevel, worn. hollow-eyed, and sal
low, in the Rouen postoffice, held the
one letter separate from q dozen (the
latter not. indeed, from women), and
stared at it until a little color came
back to his dark skin and great deal
of brightness to his eye. He was no
analyst of handwritings, yet it came
TO him instantly that this note was
from a pretty woman. To see that it
was from a woman was simple, but
that he knew-and he did know-that
she was pretty, savors of the occult.
More than this; there was something
about it that thrilled him. Suddenly,
and without reason, he knew that it
came from Elizabeth Carewe.
He walked back quickly to his Office
with the letter in the left pocket of his
coat. threw the bundle of general
to the floor above, and paused at his
own door to listen. Deep breathing
from across the hall indicated that Mr..
Gray's soul was still encased in slun1-
Der. and great was its need, as Tom
had found his partner, that morning at
five, stretched upon the horse-hair sofa
in the office, lamenting the emptiness
of a bottle which had been filled with
fiery Bourbon in the afternoon.
Vanrevel went to his own room,
locked the door. and took the letter
from his pocket. He held it between
his fingers carefully, as though it were
alive and very fragile, and he looked at
it a long time, holding it first in one
hand, then in the other, before he
opened it. At last, however, after ex
amining all the blades of his pocket
knife, he selected one brighter than the
others, and loosened the flap of the en-
velope as gently and carefully as if it
had been the petal of a rosebud that he
was opening.
DEAR MR.. yANREyEL; I believed
you last night, though / did not under
stand. But I understand now-every-
thing-and, bitter to me as the truth is,
I must show you plainly that know all
] want YOU to answer this letter.
though I must not see you again for
long time-and in your answer you must
set me right if I am anywhere mistaken
in what L have learned.
AT first. and until after the second
time we met, | did not believe in your
heart, though / did in your mind and
humor. Even since then, there have
come strange, small, ineXplicable mis-
trustings of you, but now ] throw them
all away and trust you wholly n Monsieur
think of you in those impossible gar
ishments of my poor greatuncle, and L
persuade myself that he must have been
a little like you.
Il trust you because 1 have heard the
story of your profound goodness. The
first reason for my fathers dislike was
your belief in freedom as the right of all
men. All 1t is not your pretty eXaggera-
tions and batteries q laugh at themD
that speak for you. but your career. it
self, and the brave things you have done
My fathers dislike f1ared into hatred be
cause you worsted him when he dis
covered that he could not successfully
defend the wrong against you and fell
back upon sheer insult.
He is a man whom / do not know
strange as that seems as / write it. 1t
is only to you, who have taught me so
much, that could write it. 1 have tried
TO know him and to realize that | am his
daughter. but we are the coldest ac-
quaintances, that is all; and l cannot see
how a change could come l do not un
derstand him; least of all do l under
stand why he is a gambler. 1t has been
explained to me that it is his great pas
sion, but all 1 comprehend in these
words is that they are full of shame for
his daughter.
This is what was told me; he has al
ways played heavily and skillfully-add-
ing much to his estate in that way-and
in Rouen always with certain coterie,
which was joined several years ago, by.
the man you came to save last night.
your devotion to Mr.. Gray has been
the most beautiful thing in your life. |
know all that the town knows of that,
except the thousand hidden sacrifices
you have made for him, those things
which no one will ever know. (And yet,
you see, 1 know them after .alll For
your sake. because you love him, l will
not call him unworthy.
81 have heard-from one who told un
willingly-the story of the night two
years ago, when the play ran so terribly
went away, all were poorer except one,
their host-how Mr.. Gray had nothing
left in the world and owed my father a
great sum which was to be paid in
twenty-four hours; how you took every
thing you had saved in the years of hard
work at your profession, and borrowed
the rest on your word, and brought it to
my father that afternoon; how, when
you had paid your. friends debt. you
asked my. father not to play with Mr..
Gray again; and my father made that
his excuse to send you a challenge You
laughed at the challenge-and you could
afford to laugh at it.
Robert Carewes daughter. 1t seems to
me that 1 should hide and not lift my
head; that 1, being of my fathers blood,
could never look you in the face again.
1t is so unspeakably painful and ugly
think of my fathers stiff pride and his
look of the eagle and he still plays
with your friend, almost always sue
cessfullyi' And your friend still comes
TO play-but / will not speak of that side
of it.
''Mr. Gray has made you poor, but
know 1t was not that which made you
come seeking him last night. when 1
found you there in the hall. 1t was for
his sake you came-and you went away
for mine Now that i know, at last
now that 1 have heard what your life
has been (and oh / heard so much more
than 1 have written)-now that my
eyes have been opened to see you as you
are. / am proud, and glad and humble
that can believe that you felt friend
ship for me strong enough to have made
you go for my sake You will write to
me just once, won't you? and tell me if
there was any error in what / listened
to; but you must not come to the gar
den. Now that / know you. cannot
meet you clandestinely again. 1t would
hurt the dignity which feel in you now
and my own poor dignity-such as it isl
/ have been earnestly warned of the
~ ynI T,Sf lat