Tell her not to forget me, and be sure that wherever I am or
whatever may befall me, she will be remembered as the dearest, most
precious memory of my life. Next to her Andy, you come; my darling Andy,
who was always so kind to me when my heart was aching so hard.
"Good-by, Andy, good-by."
This was the letter which Andy read with streaming eyes, while around
him, on tiptoe, to look over his and each other's shoulders, stood the
entire family, all anxious and eager to know what the runaway had
written. It was a very conciliatory letter, and it left a sadly pleasant
impression on those who read it, making even the mother wipe her eyes
with the corner of her apron as she washed her supper dishes in the sink
and whispered to herself, "She didn't trouble me so very much more than
I did her. I might have done different, too."
Richard made no comment whatever, but, like Andy, he conned the letter
over and over until he knew it by heart, especially the part referring
to himself. She had cast a shadow upon his life, but she was very dear
to him for all that, and he would gladly have taken back the substance,
had that been possible.
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