for some time. To this my answer is, I have not myself been conscious of my weariness, and could not confess that to you which I had not confessed to myself. Now when we part we will both be able to think of our love as a beautiful and wonderful experience — no bitterness will mar the memory. The parting itself is always bitter. I simply dare not think of the sorrow and pain I am causing you. But when some time has passed, and we meet again—more calmly than we could meet now—I believe you will say as I say now that we part just at the right moment. We have carried the shield of our love unblemished from the battle.
'Farewell — try not to judge me too hardly.
THE day passed and the night passed. A new day has begun. It was yesterday it happened, and I am alive.
So sorrow does not kill after all, and I still allow myself to live.
When I got his letter, and had read it twice, and understood that it was neither a joke nor a misunderstanding, I did not cry, I did not faint. I was quite calm, and reflected in a curious clear and calm way. 'So it is really finished,' I said aloud to myself. My voice sounded dry and curiously uninterested. I thought to myself, 'You ought to have said that with more feeling.' But there was no feeling in me. Everything had stiffened within
