You are young. Christine is young. You
are not so wise now as you will be five years hence. I shall try to
mold Christine into the kind of woman you could take as a wife to
Jenison Hall. In five years, God willing, the circus ring and its
spangles will be so remotely removed from her that no one can find the
trace of them. In five years, David. That may seem ages to you and to
her, who have youth and all of life ahead of you. When five years have
gone by, David, I shall let you know where we are to be found. If you
still care for her then, and she for you, no matter what the
circumstances of either may be, no human power can keep you apart. You
will come to her and say it all over again, and you will be happier
because of this brief probation. If you should find, through the
mature workings of a man's heart, that you have grown to love another,
then you will both see for yourselves that my present course is right,
and that your ways must continue, as now, along absolutely separate
paths. Do not attempt to find us. Your own futile efforts, dear David,
in that direction might be the means of bringing other and unkind
searchers to our place of refuge.
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