I
would come to them, if at all, as their equal, and, lest I fall into
temptation, I destroyed the letters. So, having burned my bridges
behind me, I was finally and utterly alone in the city, with the winter
approaching and every shivering night in the streets reminding me that
a time was rapidly coming when such a life as I led could no longer be
endured.
Not in a thousand years would I be likely to forget the night when it
came. It had rained all day, a cold October storm, and night found me,
with the chill downpour unabated, down by the North River, soaked
through and through, with no chance for a supper, forlorn and
discouraged. I sat on the bulwark, listening to the falling rain and
the swish of the dark tide, and thinking of home. How far it seemed,
and how impassable the gulf now between the "castle" with its refined
ways, between her in her dainty girlhood and me sitting there, numbed
with the cold that was slowly stealing away my senses with my courage.
There was warmth and cheer where she was. Here---- An overpowering
sense of desolation came upon me. I hitched a little nearer the edge.
What if----? Would they miss me or long at home if no word came from
me? Perhaps they might never hear.
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