by J. M. Barrie
X. Sporting Reflections
I have now told you (I presume) how I became whimsical, and I fear itwould please Mary not at all. But speaking of her, and, as the cat'slight keeps me in a ruminating mood, suppose, instead of returning Maryto her lover by means of the letter, I had presented a certain clubmanto her consideration? Certainly no such whimsical idea crossed my mindwhen I dropped the letter, but between you and me and my night-socks,which have all this time been airing by the fire because I am subject tocold feet, I have sometimes toyed with it since.
Why did I not think of this in time? Was it because I must ever remaintrue to the unattainable she?
I am reminded of a passage in the life of a sweet lady, a friend ofmine, whose daughter was on the eve of marriage, when suddenly her loverdied. It then became pitiful to watch that trembling old face trying topoint the way of courage to the young one. In time, however, there cameanother youth, as true, I dare say, as the first, but not so well knownto me, and I shrugged my shoulders cynically to see my old friend oncemore a matchmaker. She took him to her heart and boasted of him; likeone made young herself by the great event, she joyously dressed her paledaughter in her bridal gown, and, with smiles upon her face, she castrice after the departing carriage. But soon after it had gone, I chancedupon her in her room, and she was on her knees in tears before thespirit of the dead lover. "Forgive me," she besought him, "for I am old,and life is gray to friendless girls." The pardon she wanted was forpretending to her daughter that women should act thus.
I am sure she felt herself soiled.
But men are of a coarser clay. At least I am, and nearly twenty yearshad elapsed, and here was I burdened under a load of affection, like asack of returned love-letters, with no lap into which to dump them.
"They were all written to another woman, ma'am, and yet I am in hopesthat you will find something in them about yourself." It would havesounded oddly to Mary, but life is gray to friendless girls, andsomething might have come of it.
On the other hand, it would have brought her for ever out of the wood ofthe little hut, and I had but to drop the letter to send them both backthere. The easiness of it tempted me.
Besides, she would tire of me when I was really known to her. They alldo, you see.
And, after all, why should he lose his laugh because I had lost mysmile?
And then, again, the whole thing was merely a whimsical idea.
I dropped the letter, and shouldered my burden.
