Speaker 1: Her letters Kate Chopin. She had given orders that she
Speaker 1: wished to remain undisturbed, and moreover had locked the doors
Speaker 1: of her room. The house was very still. The rain
Speaker 1: was falling steadily from a laden sky in which there
Speaker 1: was no gleam, no wrift, no promise. A generous wood
Speaker 1: fire had been lighted in the ample fireplace, and it
Speaker 1: brightened and illumined the luxurious apartment to its furthermost corners.
Speaker 1: From some remote nook of her writing desk, the woman
Speaker 1: took a thick bundle of letters, bound tightly together with strong,
Speaker 1: coarse swine, and placed it upon the table in the
Speaker 1: center of the room. For weeks she had been schooling
Speaker 1: herself for what she was about to do. There was
Speaker 1: a strong deliberation in the lines of her long, thin,
Speaker 1: sensitive face. Her hands, too, were long and delicate and
Speaker 1: blue veined. With a pair of scissors, she snapped the
Speaker 1: cord by the letters together, thus released the ones which
Speaker 1: were topmost slid down to the table, and she, with
Speaker 1: a quick movement, thrust her fingers among them, scattering and
Speaker 1: churning them over till they quite covered the broad surface
Speaker 1: of the table. Before her were envelopes of various sizes
Speaker 1: and shapes, all of them addressed in the handwriting of
Speaker 1: one man and one woman. He had sent her letters
Speaker 1: all back to her one day, when sick with the
Speaker 1: dread of possibilities, she had asked to have them returned.
Speaker 1: She had meant them to destroy them, all his and
Speaker 1: her own. That was four years ago, and she had
Speaker 1: been feeding upon them ever since. They had sustained her,
Speaker 1: she believed and kept her spirit from perishing utterly. Now
Speaker 1: the day had come when the premonition of danger could
Speaker 1: no longer remain unheeded. She knew that before many months repast,
Speaker 1: she would have to part from her treasure, leaving it unguarded.
Speaker 1: She shrank from inflicting the pain the anguish which the
Speaker 1: discovery of these letters would bring to others. To one
Speaker 1: above all, who was near to her, and whose tenderness
Speaker 1: and years of devotion had made him, in a manner
Speaker 1: dear to her, she calmly selected a letter at random
Speaker 1: from the piled and cast it into the roaring fire.
Speaker 1: A second one followed, almost as calmly. With the third,
Speaker 1: her hand began to tremble, when, in a sudden paroxysm,
Speaker 1: she cast a fourth, A fifth and a sixth into
Speaker 1: the flames in breathless succession. Then she stopped and began
Speaker 1: to pant, for she was far from strong, and she
Speaker 1: stayed staring into the fire with pained and savage eyes.
Speaker 1: Oh what had she done? What had she not done?
Speaker 1: With feverish apprehension, she began to search among the letters
Speaker 1: before her. Which of them had she so ruthlessly, so
Speaker 1: so cruelly put out of her existence? Heaven to grant
Speaker 1: not the first, that very first one, written before they
Speaker 1: had learned or dared to say to each other, I
Speaker 1: love you. No, No, there it was safe enough. She
Speaker 1: laughed with pleasure and held it to her lips. What
Speaker 1: if that other, most precious and most imprudent one was missing,
Speaker 1: in which every word of untempered passion had long ago
Speaker 1: eaten its way into her brain, and which stirred her
Speaker 1: still today as it had done a hundred times before.
Speaker 1: When she thought of it, she crushed it between her palms.
Speaker 1: When she found it, she kissed it again and again.
Speaker 1: With her sharp white teeth, she tore the far corner
Speaker 1: from the letter where the name was written. She bit
Speaker 1: the torn scrap and tasted it between her lips, and
Speaker 1: upon her tongue like some god given morsel. What unbounded
Speaker 1: thankfulness she felt it not having destroyed them all. How
Speaker 1: desolate and empty would have been her remaining days without them,
Speaker 1: with only her thoughts, elusive thoughts that she could not
Speaker 1: hold in her hands and press as she did these
Speaker 1: to her cheeks and her heart. This man had changed
Speaker 1: the water in her veins to wine, whose taste had
Speaker 1: brought delirium to both of them. It was all one
Speaker 1: and past now, save for these letters that she held
Speaker 1: encircled in her arms. She stayed breathing softly and contentedly,
Speaker 1: and with the hectic cheek resting upon them, she was thinking, think,
Speaker 1: you have a way to keep them without possible ultimate
Speaker 1: injury to that other one, whom they would stab more
Speaker 1: cruelly than keen nie blades. At last she felt the way.
Speaker 1: It was a way that frightened and bewildered her to
Speaker 1: think of at first, but she had reached it by deduction,
Speaker 1: too sure to admit of doubt. She meant, of course,
Speaker 1: to destroy them herself before the inn came. But how
Speaker 1: does the end? And when? Who can tell? She would
Speaker 1: guard again the possibility of accident by leaving them in
Speaker 1: charge of the very one who, above all should be
Speaker 1: spared a knowledge of their contempts. She roused herself from
Speaker 1: the stupor of thought and gathered the scattered letters once
Speaker 1: more together, binding them again with a tough twine. She
Speaker 1: wrapped the compact bulana tight sheet of white, polished paper.
Speaker 1: Then she wrote an ink upon the back of it,
Speaker 1: in the large, firm characters, I leave this package to
Speaker 1: the care of my husband, with perfect faith in his
Speaker 1: loyalty and his love. I asked him to destroy it unopened.
Speaker 1: It was not sealed. Only a bit of string held
Speaker 1: the wrapper, which she could remove and replace it will
Speaker 1: whenever the humor came to her, to pass an hour
Speaker 1: in some intoxicating dream of the days when she felt
Speaker 1: she had lived. If he had come upon that bundle
Speaker 1: of letters in the first flush of his poignant sorrow,
Speaker 1: there would not have been an instant's hesitancy to destroy
Speaker 1: it promptly and without question. Would have seemed a welcome
Speaker 1: expression of devotion, a way of reaching her, of crying
Speaker 1: out his love to her while the world was still
Speaker 1: filled with the illusion of her presence. But months had
Speaker 1: passed since that spring day when they had found her
Speaker 1: stretched upon the floor, clutching the key of her writing desk,
Speaker 1: which she appeared to have been attempting to reach when
Speaker 1: death overtook her. Day was much like that day a
Speaker 1: year ago, when the leaves were falling in the rain,
Speaker 1: pouring steadily from the leaden sky, which held no glean
Speaker 1: no promise. He had happened accidentally upon the package in
Speaker 1: that remote nook of her desk, just as she herself
Speaker 1: had done a year ago. He carried it to the
Speaker 1: table and laid it down there, staring with puzzled eyes
Speaker 1: at the message which confronted him. I leave this package
Speaker 1: to the care of my husband, with perfect faith in
Speaker 1: his loyalty and his love. I asked him to destroy
Speaker 1: it unopened. She had made no mistake. Every line of
Speaker 1: his face, no longer young, spoke loyalty and honesty, and
Speaker 1: his eyes were as faithful as the dog's and his loving.
Speaker 1: He was a tall, powerful man, standing there in the firelight,
Speaker 1: with shoulders that stooped a little, and hair that was
Speaker 1: growing somewhat thin and gray, and a face that was
Speaker 1: distinguished and must have been handsome when he smiled. But
Speaker 1: he was slow destroy it unopened. He re read half aloud,
Speaker 1: But why unopened? He took the package again in his hands,
Speaker 1: and turning it about and feeling it, discovered that it
Speaker 1: was composed of many letters, tightly packed together. So here
Speaker 1: were her letters, which was asked she was asking him
Speaker 1: to destroy and open. She had never seemed in her
Speaker 1: lifetime to have had a secret from him. He knew
Speaker 1: her to have been cold and fashionless, but true and
Speaker 1: watchful of his comfort in his happiness. Might he not
Speaker 1: be holding in his hands the secret of some other
Speaker 1: one which had been confided to her, and which she
Speaker 1: had promised to guard. But no, she would have indicated
Speaker 1: the fact by some additional line or word. The secret
Speaker 1: was her own, something contained in these letters, and she
Speaker 1: wanted it to die with her. If he could have
Speaker 1: thought of her as on some distant, shadowy shore, waiting
Speaker 1: for him throughout the years, with outstretched hands, to come
Speaker 1: and join her again, he would not have hesitated with
Speaker 1: hopeful confidence. He would have thought, in that blessed meeting time,
Speaker 1: soul soul, she would tell me all till then I
Speaker 1: can weight and trust. But he could not think of
Speaker 1: her in any far off paradise awaiting him. He felt
Speaker 1: that there was no smallest part of her anywhere in
Speaker 1: the universe, more than there had been before she was
Speaker 1: born into the world. But she had embodied herself with
Speaker 1: terrible significance and an intangible wish, uttered when life still
Speaker 1: coursed through her veins, knowing that would reach him when
Speaker 1: the annihilation of death was between them, but uttered with
Speaker 1: all confidence in its power and potency. He was moved
Speaker 1: by the splendid daring, the magnificence of the act, which
Speaker 1: at the same time exalted him and lifted him above
Speaker 1: the head of common mortals. What secret, save one could
Speaker 1: a woman choose to have die with her? As quickly
Speaker 1: as the suggestion came to his mind, so swiftly did
Speaker 1: the man instinctive possession creep into his blood. His fingers
Speaker 1: cramped about the package in his hands, and he sank
Speaker 1: into a chair beside the table. The agonizing suspicion that
Speaker 1: perhaps another handshaired with him, her thoughts, her affection, her life,
Speaker 1: deprived him. For a swift instant of honor and reason.
Speaker 1: He thrust the end of his strong thumb beneath the string,
Speaker 1: which with a single turn would have yielded with perfect
Speaker 1: faith in your loyalty and your love. It was not.
Speaker 1: The written characters addressing themselves to the eye was like
Speaker 1: a voice speaking to his soul. With a tremor of
Speaker 1: anguished he bowed his head down upon the letters. He
Speaker 1: had once seen a clairvoyt hold a letter to his
Speaker 1: forehead and purport in doing so to discover its contents.
Speaker 1: He wondered for a while moment if such a gift
Speaker 1: for force of wishing might come to him, But he
Speaker 1: was only conscious of the smooth surface of the paper,
Speaker 1: cold against his brow, like a touch of a dead
Speaker 1: woman's hand. A half hour passed before he lifted his head.
Speaker 1: An unspeakable conflict had raged within him, but his loyalty
Speaker 1: in his love had conquered. His face was pale and deep,
Speaker 1: blind with suffering, but there was no more hesitancy to
Speaker 1: be seen there. He did not, for a moment think
Speaker 1: of casting the thick package into the flames, to be
Speaker 1: licked by the fiery tongue and charred and half revealed
Speaker 1: to his eyes that was not what she meant. He arose, and,
Speaker 1: taking a heavy bronze paper away from the table, bound
Speaker 1: it securely to the package. He walked to the window,
Speaker 1: looked out into the street below, darkness had come, and
Speaker 1: it was still raining. He could hear the rain dashing
Speaker 1: against the window panes, and could see it falling through
Speaker 1: the dull, yellow rim of light cast by the lightest
Speaker 1: street lamp. He prepared himself to go out, and, when
Speaker 1: quite ready to leave the house, thrust the weighted package
Speaker 1: into the deep pocket of his topcoat. He did not
Speaker 1: hurry along the street, as most people were doing at
Speaker 1: that hour, but walked with long, slow, deliberate steps, not
Speaker 1: seeming to mind the penetrating chill and rain driving into
Speaker 1: his face despite the shelter of his umbrella. His dwelling
Speaker 1: was not far removed from the business section of the city,
Speaker 1: and it was not a great whab before he found
Speaker 1: himself at the entrance of the bridge that spanned the river,
Speaker 1: the deep, broad, swift, black river dividing two states. He
Speaker 1: walked on and out to the very center of the structure.
Speaker 1: The wind was blowing fiercely and keenly. The darkness where
Speaker 1: he stood was impenetrable. The cells and of lights in
Speaker 1: the city he had left seemed like all the stars
Speaker 1: of heavens massed together, sinking into some distant, mysterious horizon,
Speaker 1: leaving him along in a black, boundless universe. He drew
Speaker 1: the package from his pocket, and, leaning as far as
Speaker 1: he could over the broad stonn rail of the bridge,
Speaker 1: cast it from him into the river. It fell straight
Speaker 1: and swiftly from his hand. He could not follow its
Speaker 1: descent from the darkness, nor hear its dip into the
Speaker 1: water far below, and vanished silently, seemingly into some inky,
Speaker 1: unfathomable space. He felt as if he were flinging it
Speaker 1: back to her in that unknown world whither she had gone.
Speaker 1: An hour or two later, he sat at his table
Speaker 1: in the company of several men whom he had invited
Speaker 1: that day to dine with him. A secret had settled
Speaker 1: upon his spirit, a conviction assertatude that there could be
Speaker 1: but one secret which a woman would choose to have
Speaker 1: died with her. This one thought was possessing him and
Speaker 1: occupied his brain, keeping it nimble and alert with suspicion.
Speaker 1: It clutched his heart, making every breath of existence a
Speaker 1: fresh moment of pain. The men about him were no
Speaker 1: longer the friends of yesterday. In each one he discerned
Speaker 1: a possible enemy. He tended absently to their talk. He
Speaker 1: was remembering how she had conducted herself toward this one
Speaker 1: and that one, striving to recall conversation, subtleties of facial
Speaker 1: expressions that might admit what he did not suspect at
Speaker 1: the moment, shades of meeting in words that seemed ordinary.
Speaker 1: In a change of social amenities, he led the conversation
Speaker 1: to the subject of women, probing those men for their
Speaker 1: opinions and experiences there was not one, but claimed some
Speaker 1: infallible power to command the affections of any woman whom
Speaker 1: his fancy might select. He had heard the empty bows
Speaker 1: before from the same group, and had always met it
Speaker 1: with good humored contempt. But to night every flagrant, inane
Speaker 1: utterance was charged with a new meaning, revealing possibilities that
Speaker 1: he had hitherto never taken into account. He was glad
Speaker 1: when they were gone. He was eager to be alone,
Speaker 1: not from any desire or intention to sleep. He was impatient.
Speaker 1: Who had gained her room that ruin which she had
Speaker 1: lived a large portion of her life, and where he
Speaker 1: had found these letters? There must surely be some of
Speaker 1: them somewhere, he thought, some forgotten scrap, some written thought
Speaker 1: or expression, lying unguarded by an invisible command. At the
Speaker 1: hour when he usually retired for the night. He set
Speaker 1: himself down before her writing desk and began the search
Speaker 1: of drawers, slides, pigeon holes, nooks and corners. He did
Speaker 1: not leave a scrap of anything unread. Many of the
Speaker 1: letters which he found were old, some he had read before,
Speaker 1: others were new to him. But in none did he
Speaker 1: find the faintest evidence that his wife had not been
Speaker 1: the true and loyal woman he had always believed her
Speaker 1: to be. The night was nearly spent before the fruit
Speaker 1: of search ended. The brief, troubled sleep which he slashed
Speaker 1: before his hour for rising, was freighted with feverish, grotesque dreams,
Speaker 1: though all of which he could hear and could see dimly,
Speaker 1: the dark river rushing by, carrying away his heart, his ambitions,
Speaker 1: his life. But it was not alone in letters that
Speaker 1: women betrayed their emotions. He thought often he had known them,
Speaker 1: especially when in love, to mark fugitive sentimental passages and
Speaker 1: books of verse or prose, thus expressing and revealing their
Speaker 1: own hidden thought. Might she not have done this? Then
Speaker 1: began a second and far more exhausting and arduous quest
Speaker 1: than the first, Turning page by page the volumes that
Speaker 1: crowded her room, books of fiction, poetry, philosophy. She had
Speaker 1: read them all. But nowhere, by the shadow of a sign,
Speaker 1: could he find that the author had echoed the secrets
Speaker 1: of her existence, the secret which he had held in
Speaker 1: his hands and had cast into the river. He began
Speaker 1: cautiously and gradually to question this one and that one,
Speaker 1: striving to learn by indirect ways which each had thought
Speaker 1: of her. For the most he learned she had been
Speaker 1: unsympathetic because of her coldness of manner. One had admired
Speaker 1: her intellect, another her accomplishments. A third had thought her
Speaker 1: beautiful before disease claimed her, regretting, however, that her beauty
Speaker 1: had liked a warmth of color and expression. She was
Speaker 1: praised by some for gentleness and kindness, and by others
Speaker 1: for cleverness and tact. Oh, it was useless to try
Speaker 1: to discover anything from men, he might have known. It
Speaker 1: was women who would talk of what they knew. They
Speaker 1: did talk unreservedly. Most of them had loved her. Those
Speaker 1: who had not had held her in respect and esteem.
Speaker 1: And yet, and yet there is but one secret which
Speaker 1: a woman would choose to have die with her. Was
Speaker 1: the thought which continued to haunt him and deprive him
Speaker 1: of rest, days and nights of uncertainty, being slowly to
Speaker 1: unnerve him and torture him. An assurance of the worst
Speaker 1: that he dreaded would have offered him peace to most welcome,
Speaker 1: even at the price of happiness. It seemed no longer
Speaker 1: of any moment to him that men should come and
Speaker 1: go and fall, or rise in the world, and wed
Speaker 1: and die. He did not signify if money came to
Speaker 1: him by a turn of chance or eluded him. Empty
Speaker 1: and meaningly seemed to him all devices which the world
Speaker 1: offers for men's entertainment, the food and the drinks that
Speaker 1: before him had lost their flavor. He did not longer
Speaker 1: know or care if the sun shone or the clouds
Speaker 1: lowered him. A cruel hazard had struck him there where
Speaker 1: he was weakest, shattering his whole being, leaving him with
Speaker 1: but one wish in his soul, one gnawing desire to
Speaker 1: know the mystery which he had held in his hands
Speaker 1: and cast into the river. One night, when there was
Speaker 1: no star shining, he wandered restlessly upon the streets. He
Speaker 1: no longer sought to know from men or women wi
Speaker 1: they dared not or could not tell him. Only the
Speaker 1: river knew. He went and stood again upon the bridge,
Speaker 1: where he had stood many an hour since that night,
Speaker 1: when the darkness then had closed around him and engulfed
Speaker 1: his manhood. Only the river knew. It babbled, and he
Speaker 1: listened to it and told him nothing, But it promised all.
Speaker 1: He could hear it, promising him with caressing voice, peace,
Speaker 1: in sweet repose. He could hear the sweep, the song
Speaker 1: of the water, inviting him a moment more. And he
Speaker 1: had gone to seek her, and to join her and
Speaker 1: her secret thought, and the immeasurable rest