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Newspaper Page Text
CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
ELEANOR'S LETTER TO DICK
And so it is all over, my friend.
Time has brought the inevitable.
The end which I foresaw that
night on the train came.
Do you remember, Dick, that I
asked you then if the time ever
came when you did not want me any
more, if you would please tell me?
I wonder if you notice that I am
writing the word like instead of love?
At that time I thought they were
synonymous; now I know that the
difference between heaven and hell
lies between them.
Dick, I have no recriminations to
make, no fault to find. You were
not as much to blame as I, for you
had been drinking and for some
hours had had your emotions played
upon in the most seductive manner.
I loved you, Dick, and I believe a
woman who really loves always
In my heart I knew that you did
not love me, but I lied to myself for,
being a "good woman," I had to
have, in my own mind at least, jus
tification. The lies we tell ourselves,
Dick, are the beginning of all the
sins in the world. That night I
learned tnat even a "good woman"
could feel the primal impulses of na
ture. What hypocrites we all are when
we talk about human nature. You
men arrogate to yourselves all the
great human impulses anc you 'affect
to believe that women youp women
at least are emasculated creatures
who must only resist you.
Dick, every woman who loves a
man must not only resist him, but
herself, and a woman who loves as I
loved has not the strength tS do so.
What difference does it make dear,
All the analysis in the world could
not make it any different I must
stop it and think what I am going
I have had a letter from an old
friend of my mother, a very wealthy
and childless woman, who wants me
to come and live with her.
It will be a calm resting place. To
reach it, however, I must have a lit
You cannot tell how horrible it is
for me to mention that word to you,
but it all comes to the one thing at
last, everything in the world must
be bought and paid for.
Send me enough money right
away, Dick', that I may go out of
your life. I think I would die if I
should look upon Margie's face
Neither you nor I, Dick, are worthy
of her. I never until now have
thought much of Margie. My world,
meant only you I only knew
All through the long, unhappy years
I made one passionate plea;
Imploring fate to brush aside
The dark despair of hope deferred
And give to me the boon of love,
Without which life were drear indeed.
In the gray days and months and
That span eternity's far shore
Just sixty minutes filled with love
W.ould make my cup of bliss o'erflow,
And I bn memories feed forever more.
One little hour by radiance blest,
One golden hour.
Alas! Deaf were the ears to which I
And I went stumbling through
My way o'ercast with clouds and
Until you came I saw the sun
Of love shine through your eyes,
I laid my weary head upon your
And there, encircled by your loving
I found my hour of gold. r
(To Be Continued.)