"Why, Barbara," he said, in astonishment. "It's my father's writing."

"What is it--notes?"

"No, he seems to have been trying to write a letter like those in the
book. It is all in pencil, with changes and erasures here and there.
Listen:

[Sidenote: The Letter]

"'You are right, as you always are, and we must
never see each other again. We must live near each
other for the rest of our lives, with that
consciousness between us. We must pass each other
on the street and not speak unless others are with
us; then we must bow, pleasantly, for the sake of
appearances.

"'I hope you do not blame me because I went mad.
I ask your pardon, and yet I cannot say I am sorry.
That one hour of confession is worth a lifetime of
waiting--it is worth all the husks that we are to
have henceforward while we starve for more.

"'Through all the years to come, we shall be
separated by less than a mile, yet the world lies
between us and divides us as by a glittering
sword. You will not be unfaithful to your pledge,
nor I to mine. Nothing is changed there. It is