But was it? Was there any real separation at all? That
ghost of herself, which she had left behind on the moonlit beach,
was it not still as much herself as ever it had been? Behind the
shrouding veil of the present might not the old life still live, and
the old Self wander, fixed and changeless? It was a fantastic idea
of Desire's that the girl she had been was still where she had left
her, working about the log-walled rooms, or wandering alone by the
shining water. This Self knew no other life, would never know it--
had no lot or part in the new life of the new desire. Yet in its
background she was always there, a figure of fate, waiting. Through
the pleasant, busy days Desire forgot her--almost. But never was she
quite free from the pull of that unsevered bond.
Until today there had been no actual word from the discarded past.
Dr. Farr had not replied to Desire's brief announcement of her
marriage. She had not expected that he would. And for the rest,
Spence had arranged with Li Ho for news of anything which might
concern the old man's welfare.
"Here is the letter," said Benis, breaking in upon her musing. "You
will see that, if the clear expression of thought constitutes good
English, Li Ho's English is excellent."
He handed her a single sheet of blue note paper, beautiful with a
narrow purple border and the very last word in "chaste and
distinctive" stationery.
"Honorable Spence and Respected Sir"--wrote Li Ho--"I address
husband as is propriety but include to Missy wishes of much
happiness.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231