I cannot believe that you have
forgiven me. You could not do it. It is impossible. Even if I could
believe it, I do not think I should ever have the courage to face you
after what you know of me. I should die of shame. Oh, Paul! if you could
see how my cheeks burn as I write this, and know that you will see it.
But I cannot deny myself the happiness of writing to you. There is no
reason why we should not write sometimes, is there? though we never see
each other. Does Miss Ludington really forgive me, or does she merely
consent to have me return because you still care for me? If you do still
care for me--Oh, Paul! I cannot believe it--do you forget what I have
done? Read over again the letter I left for you when I came away. You
must have forgotten it. Read it carefully. Think it all over. Oh, no,
you cannot love me still!
"IDA SLATER."
Paul replied with the first love-letter he had ever written, and one that
any woman who loved him must have found irresistible. He enclosed a note
from Miss Ludington, assuring Ida of the unhappiness which her flight had
caused them, the undiminished tenderness which they cherished for her;
and the cruelty she would be guilty of if she refused to return.
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