The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1913-05-29
Twenty Years
After
By REGINALD D. HAVEN

One day / went up into the garnet to
find something l needed. While rum
maging over old trunks and old boxes
! found a trunk that was marked
Family Documents" Curious TO learn
II had stumbled on anything valuable,
l opened 1t and spent some time ex-
aiming its contents.
While overhauling lot of old papers
l came across two patches OF letters
bound together with a ribbon that had
once been pink, but had now faded to
no particular color, and tied in bow
knot. knew by the knot that a wo-
man had done the job and, by faint
perfume that hung about them, that
part of the bundle at least had be-
longed to woman.
loosened the packages and saw that
they were without envelopes, probably
sacrificed to reduce bulk. Those in
one package had been written in a wo-
mans hand, those in the other in a
mans hand. | opened one Of the lat
ter and read dozen lines.
That's the worst love twaddle ever
read In my life," said to myself. II
wonder what idiot wrote it,"
Taking up one from the other pack
age, / read some Of 1t and wondered
that any young woman could be so in
fatuated with a man as to write such
silly stuff. The letters had evidently
passed between a couple many years
before, for the paper was tinged with
yellow, and the ink in some instances
had faded. Wondering which Of my
progenitors had written them, l ex-
amined the signature Of one OF the
superfine package and saw that 1t was
signed Your loving Ethel"
My wife's name being Ethel, l look
ed more carefully at the handwriting
and noticed for the first time that 1t
was quite like Ethel's-indeed, it was
Ethel's handwriting with twenty years
change attached. / dropped 1t, took
I'D one of the other lot and discovered
that it was my own penmanship at
nineteen.
felt the hot blood mounting to my
cheek Could it be possible that l had
written that sickening stuff? And
Ethel-she must have have been de-
mented.
When l had somewhat recovered
| from my surprise and abasement the
idea occurred to me to inf1ict one OF
those old love letters of mine upon my
| wife. l wished to see how she would
take me on paper as was two decades
agone. Our oldest son was now about
the age was when wrote the letters,
and incidentally thought he might be
doing the same thing. Also quite likely
our oldest daughter was or soon would
| be encumbering the mails with what
she in time would be quite ashamed OF.
l selected one of the most lovesick
Of my letters and one Of a near subse-
quent date of Ethers. These | put in
my pocket to be kept till she should
go into the country with the children.
! When that time came. instead OF say
| ing, Now write tonight, dear" she
said, Don't let 1t be a week before
you tell us how you're getting on" l
asked her how she would like to have
me write her a real nice long letter,
and she said she thought 1t would be
lovely.
She had been gone but a day when
1 sent her the love letter had written
her twenty years before and. taking the
one she had written me, inclosed 1t
in the first envelope 1 received from
her that l might draw 1t on her
when attacked for sending her such an
epistle.
When sufficient time had elapsed for
her to receive my letter l received a
telegram asking IL were Ill. replied
in the negative; l was perfectly well
and would spend the week end with
her and the children. l arrived In
the evening just before dinner, but had
not announced my train. When l got
home l saw at once that there was
anxiety in the family, and it was on
my account. My wife looked at me
scrutinizingly, especially studying my
eye, which is an indicator Of insanity.
whats the matter" l asked.
whats the matter with your was
her counter question. Have you any
brain trouble?
brain trouble? No. What makes
you think have"
"Read that" she said. producing the
letter had sent her.
"Well, what's the matter with itT ]
asked.
"The matter with it? Do you mean
to say that you were in your right mind
when you wrote it,"
81 do-as much as you were in your
right mind when you wrote the reply"
what replyT
/ drew out the letter I had in my
pocket for her. She took 1t and began
to read, but had not turned a page be-
fore she stopped and exclaimed "what
rubbish is this?'
Rubbish! Do you call your episto
larry production rubbish?"
my epistolary productionp
Certainly. You wrote It."
Quickly turning her eyes upon it
again she read few sentences further
stopped, looked at the date, then al
the signature. Slowly shame rose in
her cheeks as she realized that she was
reading one of her love letters to me
when she was a girl.
You've been playing a trick on me-
she cried, turning away impatiently.