The fire of wood which Apollonia
had lighted died down to a heap of red-jewelled ashes. The room, long
unused and but superficially heated, became cold with the harsh,
relentless cold of a vault. Mary's body lost its warmth, and grew chill
as marble. When she was ready to write she could scarcely move her
hands, but she warmed her fingers by breathing upon them, and at last
began her letter to Vanno.
Dearest of all you will be to me forever [she wrote], but something
has happened which must part us. Your brother will explain, in his
way. It is not my way; but there are reasons why I must not explain
at all, except to say to you, dearest, that I am the Mary of your
love, not the Mary your brother thinks me. None of those things
which he will tell you, have I done. But I have thought a great
deal, and I have prayed to be wise for you, even more than for
myself. At first I felt I could not give you up; but now I see that
it will be better for us to part, rather than for me to take you
selfishly away from your family. You love me, I know, and this will
hurt you. I think you will say that I am wrong; but by and by you
will realize that what I do is for the best.
My only love, I want you to be happy, and so I ask you to forget
me. Not quite, perhaps! I couldn't bear that; but all I will let
myself wish for is a sweet memory without pain. Don't try to find
me. I must not change my mind, and it would be agony to part from
you if I saw your face and your dear eyes.
Pages:
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535