"That is just why," it said; and behind the letters there rose up a beautiful, transparent light. But I would neither see the light nor the writing, and closed my eyes like an obstinate child. Other nights followed similar to that one, and by-and-by all things seemed to enter into conspiracy against me. My own self seemed to hate and persecute me—seemed to wrestle from me the last faint hope, which I would not surrender. But in moments of greatest anguish he himself would come to my help. As if conjured up by some magic world he stood amongst the slanderous monsters, towering above them all.
"Do you believe in me?" he asked, gazing at me with the apprehensive look and giving me his kindest smile.
"Yes, I believe," I answered, raising up these words as I had seen, when a child, the priest raise up the golden monstrance, and at that my host of tormentors grew quiet, as the congregation did at church.
Of all that my friend knew nothing.
Just as we had never in our personal intercourse said anything to disclose our innermost thought or feeling, our letters remained equally distant and cool, with perhaps only a line now and again, which failed to hide our longing or grief.
But on those lines we lived—or I at least. Those lines held out to me all and everything—imparted to my soul all the strength and sweetness that it needed to persuade the weary limbs to do their dull, daily work once more. And thus it happened that I was sometimes even happy, that, with a smile in my eyes, I cleaned the copper pots until they all shone, and scarcely felt the cold when, early on a winter morning, I knelt down to wash the steps outside the house. But the most beautiful moment was when in the evening I took my little savings-box and spread its contents on my bed. That money I regarded as my greatest treasure, always hiding it away most anxiously, and I should have been inconsolable if I had lost it by any mishap.
I was determined to leave Marlow as soon as I had saved all the money to cover my debt, and a little over to last me until I had found a suitable situation in London. Things, however, did not turn out in accordance with my expectations.
For some time back my mistress had intended to send her daughter to a school abroad, and all at once she made up her mind to do so. She did not care to live in the large house all by herself, and told me that she was going to shut it up and travel about. Since all the money I still wanted did not amount to more than fifty to sixty shillings, I felt much grieved when she told me of her intentions, because there was no possibility now of sending the money off in a few months as I had hoped to be able to do. But soon I grew more quiet about it, comforting myself with the hope of finding another situation very quickly, and of being able after all to return the money in the shortest time possible.
Thus it came to pass that I left the house, where for eighteen months I had been happy and unhappy in so peculiar a fashion; and when I looked round my room for the last time I felt the tears spring into my eyes, and I went downstairs sobbing bitterly. After having arrived in London, I went to the home to see my friend. She welcomed me most heartily, but could do nothing else for me. The next thing I wanted to do now was to find a situation in order to spend as little of my savings as possible.
I called again on the elderly lady who had given me my first post, and after the usual greetings and necessary explanations she said: