My friend,
I am overwhelmed. I have learnt by chance of the death of my step-father Bregeac! Suicide, was it not? I know also that they found the Marquess de Talencay at the bottom of a ravine, into which he had fallen they say, by accident. A crime, was it not? Murder? And then the terrible death of Jodot and William. And then so many deaths! Miss Bakersfield, and the two brothers, and, long ago, my grandfather.
I am going away, Ralph. Do not try to learn where I am going. I do not know yet, myself. I must think things over, consider my life, come to a decision.
I love you, my friend. Wait and forgive me.
Ralph did not wait. The distress of mind shown by this letter, the suffering she was enduring, his own suffering and anxiety, everything drove him to action and urged him to seek for her.
His enquiries proved vain. He thought that she had taken refuge at Sainte-Marie; he did not find her there. He made inquiries in every quarter. He organized his friends to help him find her. His efforts were useless. In despair, fearing that some new enemy was tormenting her, he passed two really painful months. Then one day he received a telegram. She begged him to come to Brussels next day, and fixed a meeting-place in Cambre wood.
Ralph’s joy was boundless when he saw her arrive, [[317]]smiling, at peace, wearing an air of infinite tenderness, her face clear of all painful memories.
She held out her hand and said: “You forgive me, Ralph?”
They walked along, side by side, for a little way, as near to one another as if they had never parted.
Then she said: “You told me, Ralph, that I had two opposing destinies which struggle with one another and hurt me. One is a destiny of good fortune and gayety which is in accord with my true nature. The other is a destiny of violence, death, mourning, and catastrophe, a whole array of hostile forces which have persecuted me since I was a child and strove to drag me into a gulf into which I should have fallen ten times, if, ten times, you had not saved me. So after the two days at Juvains, and in spite of our love, Ralph, I was so cowardly that I had a horror of life. All that affair, which you considered marvelous and fairy-like, for me took on an aspect of darkness and hell. And isn’t this right, Ralph? Think of all I have endured! And think of all I have seen! ‘There is your kingdom’, you said. I don’t want it, Ralph. Between the past and me I only want one bond. If I have hidden myself away for some weeks it is because I had a confused feeling that I must escape from the grip of an affair of which I am the only survivor. After years, after centuries, it came to an end in me; and it is I who have the task of restoring to the light of day that which is [[318]]hidden and benefiting by all its rarity and magnificence. I refuse. If I am the heir of its wealth and its splendors, I am also the heir of crimes and punishments of which I could not bear the weight.”
“So that the will of the Marquess?” said Ralph, drawing the document from his pocket and handing it to her.
She seized the will and tore it into fragments, which fluttered away in the wind.
“I tell you again, Ralph. It is at an end. I shall not take the affair up again. I am too frightened lest it should bring about, once more, other crimes and other punishments. I am not a heroine.”