"'I was for weeks in bed and suffered mental agony much beyond the
merely physical pain. I was so wicked I cursed my life and my Maker and
prayed for death--yet I lived. I was so resentful, so heartbroken, so
wicked, that I refused to speak for weeks, then, when I tried, I
couldn't, God had put the curse of silence on my wickedness.'
"Think of Madelene being wicked, Chum.
"'When I was getting well enough and reconciled to my own fate, enough
to think of others, I thought of my two lovers. Then I asked my nurse
for a glass. One look, and I made up my mind never to see either of them
again.
"'Both of them were clamoring to see me, and I refused to see either.
The plain man wrote me the only love letter I ever received. I have worn
it out reading it. It was so manly, so unselfish! He blamed himself for
the accident, and offered me his devotion and love, no matter in what
condition the letter found me. This letter he wrote in Uncle Andrew's
library, left it open on the desk and--disappeared.
"'I have never heard from him from that day to this. I never could
understand it.
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