can only cry to you now
to forgive me. Don't let me mar your great, good life. Don't try to come
back to me. Stay on and live your life and do your work, and I will keep
your little son safe for you, and teach him to love you and call you
father, and he shall be called David. He has no name yet; I was waiting
for you. It will only be a little while before he will need you, then
you may take him. Your mother and sister will love him. He will be a
great boy full of laughter and light, like you, David, and then your
mountain girl wife will be gone and your sacrifice at an end, and your
reward will come at last.

"I will go back and stay quietly where I belong. Don't send me any more
money. I have enough to take me home, and I can earn all we need after
that. Earning will help me by giving me something to do for our baby and
so for you. Sometimes I will send you word that all is well with him,
but do not write to me any more. It will be easier for you so, and
don't let your heart be too much troubled for me, David. It will
interfere with your power and usefulness in your own world. Grieving is
like fire set to a great tree. It burns the heart out of it first, and
leaves the rest. A man must not be like that. With a woman it is
different. Be glad that you did save me and brought me all these months
of sweet, sweet happiness. I will live on the remembrance.

"People have to bear the separation of death, and we will call the ocean
that divides us Death, for our two worlds are divided by it. I sail
to-morrow. You took me into your heart to save me, and now, David my
love, I go out of your heart to save you, and give you back to your own
life. Some day the cords that bind us to each other, the cords our vows
have made, will part and set you free. Good-by, good-by, David my heart,
David my love, David, David, good-by.
"CASSANDRA MERLIN."

For a long instant David sat with the letter crushed in his hand, then
suddenly awoke to energetic action.

"To-day? When does the boat leave? Good God! there may be time." He rang
for a servant and began tossing his clothing together. "Curses on me for
a cad--a boor--a lout--. Why did I leave my mail until this morning and
then oversleep! Clark," he said, as the man appeared, "tell Hicks to
bring the machine around immediately, then come for my bag."

"Beg pardon, but the machine's out of order, my lord, and her ladyship's
just going out in the carriage."