a thief in the night-第38节

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s　not　for　me　to　condone　it；　and　　yet　I　know　that　Mr。　Raffles　was　what　he　was　because　he　loved　danger　and　adventure；　and　that　you　were　what　you　were　because　you　loved　Mr。　Raffles。　　But；　even　admitting　it　was　all。　as　bad　as　bad　could　be；　he　is　dead；　and　you　are　punished。　　The　world　forgives；　if　it　does　not　forget。　　You　are　young　enough　to　live　everything　down。　　Your　part　in　the　war　will　help　you　in　more　ways　than　one。　　You　were　always　fond　of　writing。　　You　have　now　enough　to　write　about　for　a　literary　lifetime。　　You　must　make　a　new　name　for　yourself。　　You　must　Harry；　and　you　will！

〃I　suppose　you　know　that　my　aunt；　Lady　Melrose；　died　some　years　ago？　She　was　the　best　friend　I　had　in　the　world；　and　it　is　thanks　to　her　that　I　am　living　my　own　life　now　in　the　one　way　after　my　own　heart。　This　is　a　new　block　of　flats；　one　of　those　where　they　do　everything　for　you；　and　though　mine　is　tiny；　it　is　more　than　all。　I　shall　ever　want。　　One　does　just　exactly　what　one　likes　…　and　you　must　blame　that　habit　for　all。　that　is　least　conventional　in　what　I　have　said。　Yet　I　should　like　you　to　understand　why　it　is　that　I　have　said　so　much；　and；　indeed；　left　nothing　unsaid。　　It　is　because　I　want　never　to　have　to　say　or　hear　another　word　about　anything　that　is　past　and　over。　　You　may　answer　that　I　run　no　risk！　　Nevertheless；　if　you　did　care　to　come　and　see　me　some　day　as　an　old　friend；　we　might　find　one　or　two　new　points　of　contact；　for　I　am　rather　trying　to　write　myself！　　You　might　almost　guess　as　much　from　this　letter；　it　is　long　enough　for　anything；　but；　Harry；　if　it　makes　you　realize　that　one　of　your　oldest　friends　is　glad　to　have　seen　you；　and　will　be　gladder　still　to　see　you　again；　and　to　talk　of　anything　and　everything　except　the　past；　I　shall　cease　to　be　ashamed　even　of　its　length！

〃And　so　good…by　for　the　present　from　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃____〃



I　omit　her　name　and　nothing　else。　　Did　I　not　say　in　the　beginning　that　it　should　never　be　sullied　by　association　with　mine？　　And　yet　…　and　yet　…　even　as　I　write　I　have　a　hope　in　my　heart　of　hearts　which　is　not　quite　consistent　with　that　sentiment。　　It　is　as　faint　a　hope　as　man　ever　had；　and　yet　its　audacity　makes　the　pen　tremble　in　my　fingers。　　But；　if　it　be　ever　realized；　I　shall　owe　more　than　I　could　deserve　in　a　century　of　atonement　to　one　who　atoned　more　nobly　than　I　ever　can。　　And　to　think　that　to　the　end　I　never　heard　one　word　of　it　from　Raffles！







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