At first I didn't know just what to say, and then I thought it best to
tell the truth. So I looked straight at her, and said: "He made a most
unhappy marriage, and gave up his life-work. But now his wife is dead,
and some day he may preach again." Was it wrong for me to say that? I
do hope you are going to preach; somehow I feel that you will. And
anyhow while people need never know the details of your story, they
will have to know the outlines. It seemed to me that the easiest way
was to tell it and have it over.
Of course Gordon has asked some questions, and I have told what I
thought should be told. I hope that you won't feel that I have been
unwise. I thought it best to start straight, and then there would be
nothing to hide.
And now may I tell you a little bit about Barry? They want him to go
away--back to England with Gordon and Constance. You see Gordon looks
at it without sentiment. Gordon's sentiment stops at Constance. He
thinks that Barry should simply give Leila up, go away, and not come
back until he can show a clear record.
Of course I know that Gordon is right. But I can't bear it--that's why
I haven't been able to face things with quite the courage that I
thought I could. But since my talk with Grace, I am going to look at
it differently. I shall try to feel that Barry's going is best, and
that he must ride away gallantly, and come back with trumpets blowing
and flags flying.
And that's the way you must some day come into your own.--I like to
think about it. I like to think about victory and conquest, instead of
defeat and failure. Somehow thinking about a thing seems to bring it,
don't you think?
Oh, but this is such a long letter, and it is gossipy, and scrappy.
But that's the way we used to talk, and you seemed to like it.
And now I'll say "Good-night." Pittiwitz waked up a moment ago, and
walked across this sheet, and the blot is where she stepped on a word.
So that's her message. But my message is Psalms 27:14. You can look
it up in father's Bible--I am so glad you took it with you. But
perhaps you don't have to look up verses; you probably know everything
by heart. Do you?
Sincerely ever, MARY BALLARD.
Among the Pines.
My good little friend: I am not going to try to tell you what your letter meant to me. It was
the bluebird's song in the spring, the cool breeze in the desert,
sunlight after storm--it was everything that stands for satisfaction
after a season of discomfort or of discontent.