Miss Madge Nelson,
Roaring River.
“What does this mean?” she asked, bewildered.
“I––I’m afraid you will have to read it to find out,” he answered.
She opened the door and rushed out. One fear was in her heart. She dreaded to find money in it. How dared he offer to pay for what she had done? She would lay the envelope on the table, with its contents, and quietly say––well, what could she say?
With the thing in her hand she walked down the path to the edge of the falls, where she sat down on an old big trunk of birch fallen many years ago and partly covered with moss. For one or two long minutes she held it in her lap, gazing at the rushing waters without seeing them. A strange fluttering was at her heart, a curious trepidation that was akin to intense fear caused her neck to throb, but her face was very pale. Finally, with a swift gesture, she tore the envelope open and read:
My Good Little Nurse:
Those other letters were not from me but this one is: you saw me write it. It carries a thousand thanks for your kindness and devotion to your helpless patient. During those dreadfully long hours your presence was a blessing; it could soothe away the pain and bring hope and comfort. 301 In a couple of weeks more I shall be as strong as ever, but I know that without you Roaring River will never be the same. You came here bravely, ready to marry a decent man who would help you bear the burdens of this world, which had proved too heavy for you. Of course the man must be honest and worthy of your trust. After all that you underwent from the first moment of your being left alone on the tote-road I cannot wonder at your desire to go away. But I feel that without you I could never have pulled through and that by this time the prospect of a life spent without you is unbearable.
I am not begging you humbly for your love. I don’t want to owe it to your pity for the man who was so ill, to the deep charity and the kindness of a sweet and unselfish nature. That is why I couldn’t speak out my longing for you and the love that fills my heart, lest I might surprise you into a hasty consent. I could not have restrained my emotion and I know I would have begged and implored––and that might have made it very hard and painful for you to refuse.
Please return to me after you have read and thought this over. If we are to remain but friends you will extend one hand to me and I shall know what it means. I daresay I shall survive that hurt as I survived the other. Have no fear for me.
But if you feel in your heart that you can give me all I long for, that you are willing to become my wife, then stretch both of those little hands to me, since it will take the two to carry such a precious gift.
Your hopeful and grateful patient,
Hugo.
After she had finished she tried to read the paper again, but it was too hard to see. For a moment she stared at the Roaring Falls through the misty veil of their spray. Thrusting the letter into her bosom she found her feet, suddenly, and ran to the little shack. Hugo had risen and was standing in the doorway, his heart beating fast and his face very pale. As Madge came near she uplifted both hands, but she could hardly see him. Once more her eyes were suffused with tears, but it was as if the glory of a wondrous sunlit world had been too strong for them. She was smiling happily, however, when he took both little hands into his right.
“I––I hurried back,” she panted. “Neither––neither did I feel that––that I could live without you––without this wonderful peace of beautiful Roaring River, and––and the love that it has brought to me!”