Oh Jim, I think I’ve been waiting for him all my life. I didn’t even know I was waiting—I didn’t know I lived in fog and mist and darkness until this great golden light burst in. Of course there’s pain to come—but I’ll bear it, Jim. I can, because I’ve had these two days, and I won’t cry out. I can be very still. I know there can be nothing ahead, nothing, but I shall always be stronger, bigger, wiser and more tender because I have known this. Oh Jim, I have been so lonely! The long days, the long nights alone, always alone. They have been hard to bear. I shall go on with my life, and, Jim—no one but you shall know what has come to be. Shall I send this letter? I don’t even know where you are—I don’t think I’ve been really writing to you. I’ve been writing to him. I wrote “Jim,” and I meant “Horace.” I see that now—but he must never know, he must not. It would make things too difficult, and that is all that you shall know about him—just his name, but if I should die there would be no harm in his knowing then, would there? I think he would be glad. I’ll put the address in this little envelope and seal it and if I should die send him this letter. It is more his than yours. [_ROBERTS has listened without a sound, scarcely a change of expression—motionless. There is a pause._] ROBERTS. I am glad—she had—those—two days. They weren’t much, were they? And I never knew, I never knew—anything! Yet I loved her. She was the only woman that ever came into my life. She knew that—at the end—knew how deeply I loved her, I mean. She seemed glad to know it. She asked me once if I had been happy, if she had made me happy—asked it with her eyes fixed on mine. When I said yes she dropped back on the pillow. I remember it so well, and I didn’t know, I didn’t know! [_He sits down._] Oh how blind, how blind! You must have loved her dearly. If I had only known! [_TANNER is silent._] You did love her? [_TANNER makes no reply._] Man! you did love her? TANNER. We were great friends— ROBERTS. Yes, yes, of course, but—after that letter was written—what happened? TANNER. We saw each other often. I told you she was a wonderful friend. ROBERTS. But—but you loved her, [_rises_] didn’t you? She had a little happiness? Tell me! Tell me! I must know. TANNER. What is love? We had some golden days together, then I had to go away—I heard of her death when I was on the other side of the world. As I told you, this letter reached me only tonight. I found it here. ROBERTS. You never knew that she loved you? TANNER. Sometimes I guessed—but it seemed so incredible—I couldn’t believe— We never spoke— ROBERTS. Give me the letter. TANNER. No. ROBERTS. You shall. It is not yours— You did not love her. TANNER. It is mine. It’s a wonderful letter— It is precious to me. ROBERTS. Why? TANNER. You forget that I am a novelist. [_The two men stand facing each other._] CURTAIN. TEMPERAMENT A MUSICAL TRAGEDY IN TWO SCENES