The Washington times., 1913-07-05

ish of me to withhold it-foolish and in
consequent Yet I believed that II 1
had told you l should not have been
here now. So, after all. ! have no re-
grets.
1 can hear you ask me then-jealous
as ever-what Is II that I have found
here to reconcile me SO easily to our
separation. to an isolation which is In.
deed Incredible and almost awful ?
Douglas, It is that have found good
to do. Everybody, you, I am afraid,
included. has always looked upon me
have been SO most Of the days OF my
life. Never mind, my chance has come.
It was YOU who drove me here. Thank
you. Douglas. Believe me that shall
bless you for 1t 30 long as live.
Would you care to know anything OF
nv life, I wonder. No? For many rea-
sons 1t were best not to tell you too
much. The fortress In which I live
where the walls and floors are Of stone.
and without. the snow Is deep upon the
pHson where my husband is kept, l
see him for five minutes every day
through a window with iron bars-yet
he tells me that the thought Of that
five minutes keeps him alive hour by
hour. and I am beginning to believe T.:
Is a thing outside the imagination.
From the hilltop on which the prison is
built ! can see for twenty miles, and
there Is not tree. nor building, not
even q rise or fall In the ground to
break the awful and dazzling lonei-
ness of that great field Of snow. Below
me are the grim shafts Of the mines,
down which the prisoners here go, IRON
ed. every day.
Away on the horizon, westward. 10 the
black line Of pine forests. in whose
shadows is night everlasting. A wolf
howls beneath my window every night,
and for months / have seen no color
save In an occasionally lurid sunset
with crimson afterglow. In the daytime
/ help in the hospital-at night I sit
before Q wood fire and look out beyond
my whitewashed walls across the
mighty forest, back to London, and
You Of whom 1 am thinking.
Your kilograms reached me together,
or / would have stopped you on the
way. 1 am glad, Douglas. that You
know the truth; am glad that you
have wanted me. Be patient and brave.
Life is opening for you through many
avenues. Take what comes to you. and
remember that your development 10 q
holy duty to yourself and your fellows.
We are like two stars. Douglas. who
have passed one another in the darkness
and fioated away into a great sea Of
space. The future may be ours again.
but the present Is for other things than
regrets. There are worlds to tighten
ever, though our shining is very small
thing. Be true to yourself and to your
destiny.
want to be honest with you. Doug
las. For the first time in my life am
willingly suffering privations; I am
neglecting my own amusement and hap
piness for the sake of others Yet am
not of the stun whereof saints and mar
tyrs are fashioned. This life in time
would drive me mad. You would ask
me. I know-how long? I answer that
I stay here so long as can bear 1t and
my health serves. 1t may De Tor
months, perhaps years.
ise which you care to have. When 1t Is
ended I will send you word.
Until then, Douglas. II you care to
have me sign myself so. / am
Your faithful friend.
EMILY DE REUSS
DoupIas drew paper and ink toward
him and wrote back with breathless
viii do your bidding. and whether It
be for a year or twenty years. l VIII
wait. -,
cicelv's wedding, and they all noticed
with Measure a new buoyancy In his
walk and bearing, a keener light In his
ewes and the old true ring In his voice.
There was never a shadow of envy In
his heart as he watched Drexley's hap
Charine Cross for the Continent and
thew walked back to her rooms to-
gether.
so you are really going home to
Feldwick. Joan?" he asked.
She nodded.