And that is why I ask you now to forgive me, --because I am not noble enough to consider you when my happiness is at stake. I suppose I am a light person seemingly to play thus with a man's heart. If this reflection can rob you of regret, think me so. Does it sound presumptuous or ironical for me to say I shall pray you may be happy without me?
Well, it is said hearts do not break for love, --that is, not quickly. If you will just think of what I have done, surely you will not regret your release; you may yet find a paradise with some other and better woman. No, I am not harsh or unreasonable; even I expect to be happy. Why should not you, then, --you, a man; I, a woman? Forget me. In your busy, full life this should be easy. Trust me, no woman is worthy of spoiling your life for you.
My pen keeps trailing on; like summer twilight it is loath to depart. I am such a woman. I may never see your face again. Will you not forgive me?
RUTH.
He looked up with a bloodless face at Burke standing with the smoking soup.
"I--I--thought you had forgotten to ring," he stammered, shocked at the altered face.
"Take it away," said his master, hoarsely, rising from his chair. "I do not wish any dinner, Burke. I am going to my office, and must not be disturbed."
The man looked after him with a sadly wondering shake of his head, and went back to his more comprehensible pots and kettles.
Kemp walked steadily into his office, lit the gas, and sat down at his desk. He began to re-read the letter slowly from the beginning. It took a long time, for he read between the lines. A deep groan escaped him as he laid it down. It was written as she would have spoken; he could see the expression of her face in the written words, and a miserable empty feeling of powerlessness came upon him. He did not blame her, --how could he, with that sad evidence of her breaking heart before him? He got up and paced the floor. His head was throbbing, and a cold, sick feeling almost overpowered him. The words of the letter repeated themselves to him.
"Paradise with some other, better woman," --she might have left that out; she knew better; she was only trying to cheat herself. "I too shall be happy." Not that, not some other man's wife, --the thought was demoniacal.
He caught his reflection in the glass in passing. "I must get out of this," he laughed with dry, parched lips. He seized his hat and went out.
The wind was blowing stiffly; for hours he wrestled with it, and then came home and wrote to her:-- I can never forgive you; love's litany holds no such word. Be happy if you can, my santa Filomena; it will help me much, --the fact that you are somewhere in the world and not desolate will make life more worth the living. If it will strengthen you to know that I shall always love you, the knowledge will be eternally true. Wherever you are, whatever the need, remember--I am at hand.
HERBERT KEMP.
Mr. Levice's face was more haggard than Ruth's when, after this answer was received, she came to him with a gentle smile, despite the heavy shadows around her eyes.
"It is all over, Father," she said; "we have parted forever. Perhaps I did not love him enough to give up so much for him. At any rate I shall be happier with you, dear."
"Are you sure, my darling?"
"Quite sure; and there is no more to be said of it. Remember, it is dead and buried; we must never remind each other of it again. Kiss me, Father, and forget that it has been."
Mr. Levice drew a long sigh, partly of relief, partly of pain, as he looked into her lovely, resolute face.
