good-bye, my father and mother, and the children, one by one, and poor
uncle; And tell them all to forget me, and forget me yourself. Turn
the key in the door; let no thought of me return; be done with the poor
ghost that pretended he was a man and stole your love. Scorn of myself
grinds in me as I write. I should tell you I am well and happy, and want
for nothing. I do not exactly make money, or I should send a remittance;
but I am well cared for, have friends, live in a beautiful place and
climate, such as we have dreamed of together, and no pity need be wasted
on me. In such places, you understand, it is easy to live, and live
well, but often hard to make sixpence in money. Explain this to my
father, he will understand. I have no more to say; only linger, going
out, like an unwilling guest. God in heaven bless you. Think of me to
the last, here, on a bright beach, the sky and sea immoderately blue,
and the great breakers roaring outside on a barrier reef, where a little
isle sits green with palms. I am well and strong. It is a more pleasant
way to die than if you were crowding about me on a sick-bed. And yet I
am dying. This is my last kiss. Forgive, forget the unworthy.'

So far he had written, his paper was all filled, when there returned a
memory of evenings at the piano, and that song, the masterpiece of love,
in which so many have found the expression of their dearest thoughts.
'Einst, O wunder!' he added. More was not required; he knew that in his
love's heart the context would spring up, escorted with fair images and
harmony; of how all through life her name should tremble in his ears,
her name be everywhere repeated in the sounds of nature; and when death
came, and he lay dissolved, her memory lingered and thrilled among his
elements.

'Once, O wonder! once from the ashes of my heart
Arose a blossom--'

Herrick and the captain finished their letters about the same time; each
was breathing deep, and their eyes met and were averted as they closed
the envelopes.

'Sorry I write so big,' said the captain gruffly. 'Came all of a rush,
when it did come.'

'Same here,' said Herrick. 'I could have done with a ream when I got
started; but it's long enough for all the good I had to say.'

They were still at the addresses when the clerk strolled up, smirking
and twirling his envelope, like a man well pleased. He looked over
Herrick's shoulder.

'Hullo,' he said, 'you ain't writing 'ome.'

'I am, thou