least
mamma and I were--when Hugh joined us here, and, after a long interview
with Norma, informed us that he had cabled father for consent and that
the ceremony was to take place almost immediately. Hugh, as perhaps
you know, is a brother of Mrs. Vincent, Norma's intimate friend, and he
has been in love with Norma time out of mind. I do not like the
marriage, and feel troubled and sick at heart about it. It has been so
hastily arranged, and Norma isn't one bit in love with her husband, and
don't pretend to be. Hugh is patient and devoted to her, which is my
strongest hope for their happiness in the future. It seems to me so
unnatural to make a loveless marriage. I can't understand a woman's
doing it. Nesbit is going to Palestine and the East. He is miserably
changed; his hair is beginning to streak with gray at the temples
already, and the lines about his mouth are getting hard. It makes me
miserable to think about his life and his future. I can't help feeling
that he has had hard measure meted out to him all around. It is cruel
to touch happiness but never grasp it. I know what you all think about
the affair, Berkeley, but I'm so wrought up about poor Nesbit, I must
and _will_ speak. He ought not to be made to suffer so; it would be
far kinder to take a pistol and kill him at once. You don't think
about _him_ at all--and you should. I know that I'm just a silly
little thing, and that my opinions don't amount to much, but I must say
that I think you are wrong about this matter. A human soul is worth
more than a scruple, be the scruple ever so noble, and I believe the
Heavenly Father thinks so too. If you, who are strong and
large-minded, will put prejudice aside and think the matter out fairly,
you will be _obliged_ to see that Pocahontas is doing wrong. She is
killing herself, and she is killing him, and you ought not to let her
do it. You know your influence over her--I believe it is you and your
mother--the dread of disappointing you, or lowering herself in your
estimation, or something of that sort, that holds her back. Don't do
it any longer, Berkeley. Be generous and noble and large-hearted, like
God means us all to be toward each other. It is awful to be so hard.
Excess of righteousness must be sinful--almost as sinful as lack of
righteousness. There, I've said it all and shocked you, but I can't
help that. Nesbit's face haunts me so that I can't rid myself of it,
sleeping or waking. I am