d the justice
of the rebuke (from his point of view), while feeling on my side the
injustice of the imputation, for I was not ungrateful, but simply in a
desperate state of mind. I am afraid that I am not making myself clear.
But let me affirm that I do not lose sight of the debt I owe him, the
debt of gallantry. I had always admired him for his bravery, and
hundreds of times have I foolishly day-dreamed of performing a
life-saving office for him. But the manner--and pardon me for saying
it--the arrogance which he assumed over me, wounded me, and the wound is
still slowly bleeding. But in time it will heal, and when it does I will
go to him, but now I cannot."

"But she must come to me or let me go to her!" the Major broke in. "I
confess that I didn't understand her. Why, there is heroism in her
composition. Go ahead, Margaret. She's got more sense than all of us. Go
ahead."

Mrs. Cranceford continued: "I can conceive of nothing more useless than
my life at home would be. The truth is, I must do something, see
something, feel the throb rather than the continuous pressure of life.
Thousands of women are making their way in the world. Why should not I?
And it is not that I mean wholly to desert you or to love you less, but
I must go away, and before this letter reaches you I shall be on my
journey----"

Mrs. Cranceford's trembling hands let the paper fall. The Major grabbed
it up, fumbled with it, put it upon the desk and sat down. In silence
they looked at each other, and their vision was not clear. "Read on," he
said. "We can stand anything now."

She wiped her eyes and obeyed him: "Shall be on my journey. I have in
mind a certain place, but what place it is I must not tell you. If I
succeed I shall let you know, and if I fail--but I will base nothing
upon the probability of failure. I know that you will look upon this
almost as an act of insanity, and carrying out my resolve to be frank, I
must say that I do not know but that it is. It is, though, the only
course that promises relief and therefore I must take it. You must not
charge me with a lack of love for you and never must you lose faith in
me. It is singular that after all these years, after all our
confidences, I should choose a pen wherewith to make myself known to
you, and you may call me a most unnatural daughter, but you must charge
my unnaturalness to nature, and nothing that nature does should appear
unnatural when once we have come to understand it.