I have not treated you quite frankly about something you had a right to
know about. I am ashamed and I regret very much that I have not told
you. I so dread the possibility of losing your friendship that I will
_never_ tell you unless you promise me beforehand to forgive me. I
know that is unfair, but it is the only way I can see out of a
difficulty that my foolish reticence has led me into. Few people,
perhaps, consider me reticent, but in some cases I am afraid I am even
deceitful. Won't you make it easy to "'fess" so I may be happy again?

Truly your friend,
ELINORE RUPERT.


_June 16, 1910._

MY DEAR FRIEND,--

Your card just to hand. I wrote you some time ago telling you I had a
confession to make and have had no letter since, so thought perhaps you
were scared I had done something too bad to forgive. I am suffering
just now from eye-strain and can't see to write long at a time, but I
reckon I had better confess and get it done with.

The thing I have done is to marry Mr. Stewart. It was such an
inconsistent thing to do that I was ashamed to tell you. And, too, I
was afraid you would think I didn't need your friendship and might
desert me. Another of my friends thinks that way.

I hope my eyes will be better soon and then I will write you a long
letter.