I did not open Helen's writing case for weeks; not until after my return from the dreary journey West with Mr. Winship.
Stunned by the shock of her death, bearing not only my grief but the knowledge that her father and mother must hold me in part responsible for her fatal coming to New York, I could not face the secret of her choice of death rather than marriage with me.
It was a hot July night when I turned the key that guarded the secret.
I found the story of the Bacillus, the curse that killed Darmstetter, that killed Helen. With it was a letter that I have read a thousand times--this letter that I am now reading. The scent of roses still breathes from it. On the last page there are splashes of wine.
JOHN: I cannot bear it. Prof. Darmstetter gave me death when he gave me beauty.
I am not a coward; but what is left? I am tired, wretched; there is no place for me.
The Bacillus has defeated every wish it has aroused. It has refused me love, ambition, honest work. From men it has compelled fear; from women hate; it has cut me off from my kind.
You saw Ned smiling into Milly's pale eyes. I should not have cared, I who was to marry you, but--I love him; you know it--you have known it since my heart broke, since I tore it out and swore to reign, to dazzle, to be Queen of the world.
You know what came of my ambitions. The world treated my beauty as a menace; it struck me down. Then I asked to earn my bread; but without you I might have starved. You were my refuge--and you--you love a cripple!
Why didn't I guess? I would have been glad, for Ethel is a dear child, and I had given you sorrow enough. I did not love you; I do not think I have pretended to love you. But can no man help seeming to care for me--help caring while he is with me? Ned told me he did not love; but you, you I trusted; you would have married me, not letting me know--
Ethel limps, she is plain. Plain as I was when you adored my ugly face, my freckles. Does beauty kill love, or do men see beauty only where they love? Little brown partridges, little brown partridges--
The Bacillus is a cheat; every woman to her lover is the most beautiful!
Ethel's good. You would have found me conspicuous, an annoyance among people who shrink from the extraordinary. I have been fond of Ethel.