been going wrong with me of late and I didn't want to bother you. But
oh! Mate, I haven't anybody else in the world to come to, and you'll
have to forgive me for bringing a cloud across your happiness.

The whole truth is I'm worsted! The fight has been too much. Days,
weeks, months of homesickness have piled up on top of me until all my
courage and my control, all my _will_ seem paralysed.

Night after night I lie awake and stare out into the dark, and staring
back at me is the one word "_alone_". In the daytime, I try to
keep somebody with me all the time, I have gotten afraid of myself. My
face in the mirror does not seem to belong to me, it is a curious
unfamiliar face that I do not know. Every once in a while I want to
beat the air and scream, but I don't do it. I clench my fists and set
my teeth and teach, teach, teach.

But I can't go on like this forever! Flesh and spirit rebel against a
lifetime of it! Haven't I paid my penalty? Aren't the lightness and
brightness and beauty ever coming back?

On my desk is a contract waiting to be signed for another four years
at the school. Beside it is a letter from Brother, begging me to drop
everything and come home at once. Can yon guess what the temptation
is? On the one hand ceaseless work, uncongenial surroundings and
exile, on the other luxury, loved ones,--and dependence. I must give
my answer to-morrow and Heaven only knows what it will be. One thing
is certain I am tired of doing hard things, I am tired of being brave.

It is storming fearfully but I am going out to mail this letter. If I
cable that I am coming you must be the first one to know why. I have