Returning to his hotel, he found three letters waiting for him on the sitting-room table.
The first letter that he opened was from his landlord, and contained his bill for the past week. As he looked at the sum total, Amelius presented to perfection the aspect of a serious young man. He took pen, ink, and paper, and made some elaborate calculations. Money that he had too generously lent, or too freely given away, appeared in his statement of expenses, as well as money that he had spent on himself. The result may be plainly stated in his own words: “Goodbye to the hotel; I must go into lodgings.”
Having arrived at this wise decision, he opened the second letter. It proved to be written by the lawyers who had already communicated with him at Tadmor, on the subject of his inheritance.
“DEAR SIR,
“The enclosed, insufficiently addressed as you will perceive, only reached us this day. We beg to remain, etc.”
Amelius opened the letter enclosed, and turned to the signature for information. The name instantly took him back to the Community: the writer was Mellicent.
Her letter began abruptly, in these terms:
“Do you remember what I said to you when we parted at Tadmor? I said, ‘Be comforted, Amelius, the end is not yet.’ And I said again, ‘You will come back to me.’
“I remind you of this, my friend—directing to your lawyers, whose names I remember when their letter to you was publicly read in the Common Room. Once or twice a year I shall continue to remind you of those parting words of mine: there will be a time perhaps when you will thank me for doing so.
“In the mean while, light your pipe with my letters; my letters don’t matter. If I can comfort you, and reconcile you to your life—years hence, when you, too, my Amelius, may be one of the Fallen Leaves like me—then I shall not have lived and suffered in vain; my last days on earth will be the happiest days that I have ever seen.