a little, I shall be delighted to
hear from you; although I foresee that five-sixths of the letters will
be about your children, and the remaining sixth devoted to your
husband--whereas I would rather it was all about yourself, and our dear
town, with its life and strife. I have not taken the veil; I may still
endure to hear echoes of all the town gossip.

If you were here, you would ask what I proposed to do with myself. Well,
dear Lillie, I have not left my frocks nor my mirror behind me.
Moreover, time has this wonderful property that, unlike the clocks, it
goes of itself without having to be wound up. I have the sea, the
forest; my piano, and my house. If time really hangs heavy on my hands,
there is no reason why I should not darn the linen for Torp!

Should it happen by any chance--which God forbid--that I were struck
dead by lightning, or succumbed to a heart attack, would you, acting as
my cousin, and closest friend, undertake to put my belongings in order?
Not that you would find things in actual disorder; but all the same
there would be a kind of semi-order. I do not at all fancy the idea of
Richard routing among my papers now that we are no longer a married
couple.

With every good wish,
Your cousin,
ELSIE LINDTNER.

MY DEAR, KIND FRIEND, AND FORMER HUSBAND,

Is there not a good deal of style about that form of address? Were you
not deeply touched at receiving, in a strange town, flowers sent by a
lady? If only the people understood my German and sent them to you in
time!

For an instant a beautiful thought flashed through my mind: to welcome
you in this way in every town where you have to stay. But since I only
know the addresses of one or two florists in the capitals, and I am too
lazy to find out the others, I have given up this splendid folly, and
simply note it to my account as a "might-have-been."

Shall I be quite frank, Richard? I am rather ashamed when I think of
you, and I can honestly say that I never respected you more than to-day.
But it could not have been otherwise. I want you to concentrate all your
will-power to convince yourself of this. If I had let myself be
persuaded to remain with you, after this great need for solitude had
laid hold upon me, I should have worried and tormented you every hour of
the day.

Dearest and best friend, there is some truth in these words, spoken by I
know not whom: "Either a woman is made for marriage, and