I remained motionless in my chair for hours, and then--it was soon

after the clocks struck four--I sprang up, and searched among my

papers for Alresca's letter, the seal of which, according to his

desire, was still intact. The letter had been in my mind for a long

time. I knew well that the moment for opening it had come, that the

circumstances to which Alresca had referred in his covering letter had

veritably happened. But somehow, till that instant, I had not been

able to find courage to read the communication. As I opened it I

glanced out of the window. The first sign of dawn was in the sky. I

felt a little easier.

Here is what I read: "My dear Carl Foster:--When you read this the words I am

about to write will have acquired the sanction which belongs

to the utterances of those who have passed away. Give them,

therefore, the most serious consideration.

"If you are not already in love with Rosetta Rosa you soon

will be. I, too, as you know, have loved her. Let me tell you

some of the things which happened to me.

"From the moment when that love first sprang up in my heart I

began to be haunted by--I will not say what; you know without

being told, for whoever loves Rosa will be haunted as I was,

as I am. Rosa has been loved once for all, and with a passion

so intense that it has survived the grave. For months I

disregarded the visitations, relying on the strength of my

own soul. I misjudged myself, or, rather, I underestimated my

adversary--the great man who in life had loved Rosa. I

proposed to Rosa, and she refused me. But that did not quench

my love. My love grew; I encouraged it; and it was against

the mere fact of my love that the warnings were directed.

"You remember the accident on the stage which led to our

meeting. That accident was caused by sheer terror--the terror

of an apparition more awful than any that had gone before.

"Still I persisted--I persisted in my hopeless love. Then

followed that unnamed malady which in vain you are seeking to

cure, a malady which was accompanied by innumerable and

terrifying phenomena. The malady was one of the mind; it

robbed me of the desire to live. More than that, it made life

intolerable. At last I surrendered. I believe I am a brave

man, but it is the privilege of the brave man to surrender

without losing honor to an adversary who has proved his

superiority. Yes, I surrendered. I cast out love in order

that I might live for my art.

"But I was too late. I had pushed too far the enmity of this

spectral and unrelenting foe, and it would not accept my

surrender. I have dashed the image of Rosa from my heart, and

I have done it to no purpose. I am dying. And so I write this

for you, lest you should go unwarned to the same doom.




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