Told in a French Garden - August, 1914 by Mildred Aldrich
page 94 of 204 (46%)
page 94 of 204 (46%)
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has not sinned against another needs pity. I meant you no harm.
Fate--my temperament, your immobility, the very gifts that have made me what I am were to blame--if blame there were. Every one of us must live out his life, according to his nature. I, as well as you! "When, on this very spot where we last parted, you told me that you loved her, I swear to you, if need be, that I rejoiced. I was glad that she would have you to make the future smooth for her. Later I grew to envy you. It was for your safety, as well as mine and hers, that I decided to see neither of you again until she had been some time your wife. No word of love, no confidence of any kind, had ever passed between us. When I wrote you that I should not be here to see you married, and when not even your reproaches could move me, I had already engaged my passage on a sailing ship bound for the Azores. I had planned to put a long uncertain voyage between you and any possibility that I might mar your chances for happiness, for the nearer the day came, the more--in spite of myself--I resented it! "My good intentions were thwarted by--Fate. "For some reason, forgotten and unimportant, the Captain deferred lifting anchor for a whole week. I called myself unpretty names for thinking that I could not even see her without danger. I despised myself for the judgment that accused me of being such a scamp as to think I would do anything to rob her of the protection and safety you could give her, and I could not, and an egoist for being possessed with the idea that I could if I would. "Suddenly I felt quite sure of myself. |
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