The Dark Star

Neeland had several letters from Ruhannah Carew that autumn and

winter. The first one was written a few weeks after her arrival in

Paris:

* * * * *

Dear Mr. Neeland: Please forgive me for writing to you, but I am homesick.

I have written every week to mother and have made my letters read as

though I were still married, because it would almost kill her if she

knew the truth.

Some day I shall have to tell her, but not yet. Could you tell me how

you think the news ought to be broken to her and father?

That man was not on the steamer. I was quite ill crossing the ocean.

But the last two days I went on deck with the Princess Mistchenka and

her maid, and I enjoyed the sea.

The Princess has been so friendly. I should have died, I think,

without her, what with my seasickness and homesickness, and brooding

over my terrible fall. I know it is immoral to say so, but I did not

want to live any longer, truly I didn't. I even asked to be taken. I

am sorry now that I prayed that way.

Well, I have passed through the most awful part of my life, I think. I

feel strange and different, as though I had been very sick, and had

died, and as though it were another girl sitting here writing to you,

and not the girl who was in your studio last August.

I had always expected happiness some day. Now I know I shall never

have it. Girls dream many foolish things about the future. They have

such dear, silly hopes.

All dreams are ended for me; all that remains in life for me is to

work very hard so that I can learn to support myself and my parents. I

should like to make a great deal of money so that when I die I can

leave it to charity. I desire to be remembered for my good works. But

of course I shall first have to learn how to take care of myself and

mother and father before I can aid the poor. I often think of becoming

a nun and going out to nurse lepers. Only I don't know where there are

any. Do you?

Paris is very large and a sort of silvery grey colour, full of trees

with yellowing leaves--but Oh, it is so lonely, Mr. Neeland! I am

determined not to cry every day, but it is quite difficult not to. And

then there are so many, many people, and they all talk French! They

talk very fast, too, even the little children.