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Tell me again that you are prepared to wait until I am worthy of your love, and forgive me." "I gave you my word. I never change." "Thank you, dear. Goodbye." Nejdanov went out and Mariana locked the door of her room. A FORTNIGHT later, in the same room, Nejdanov sat bending over his three-legged table, writing to his friend Silin by the dim light of a tallow candle.
He had never told anyone of his relation with Silin, a relation that was very dear to him. "Well, my dear friend, my pure-hearted Vladimir!" Thus he wrote to him; he always called him pure-hearted, and not without good cause. "Congratulate me; I have fallen upon green pasture, and can rest awhile and gather strength. Petersburg friends. At first it was horribly boring, but I feel a bit better now.
"I will return by Llan Silin," said I, "and in passing through pay a visit to the tomb of the great poet. Is Llan Silin far off?" "About half a mile," said the man. "Go over the bridge, turn to the right, and you will be there presently." I shook the honest couple by the hand and bade them farewell.
"T'other one," said John, "is Miss Nellie, who won't work for fear of silin' her hands, which some fool of a city chap has made her b'lieve are so white and handsome," and a row of ivory was just visible, as, leaning against a tree, John watched the effect of his words upon "the fool of a city chap."
"To Llan Rhyadr," said I, "from which I came this morning." "Which way did you come?" said the man. "By Llan Gedwin," I replied, "and over the hill. Is there another way?" "There is," said the man, "by Llan Silin." "Llan Silin!" said I; "is not that the place where Huw Morris is buried?" "It is," said the man.
He would probably have lost interest in him, as there was little in common between them, but he wrote him long letters gladly with the fullest confidence. With others, on paper at any rate, he was not himself, but this never happened when writing to Silin.
Nejdanov did not express himself to anyone as freely as he did to Vladimir Silin; when writing to him he felt as if he were communicating to some dear and intimate soul, dwelling in another world, or to his own conscience. Nejdanov could not for a moment conceive of the idea of living together again with Silin, as comrades in the same town.
He had breathed his last... and the clasped hands of Mariana and Solomin still lay upon his breast. The following are the contents of the two letters he had left. One consisting only of a few lines, was addressed to Silin: "Goodbye, my dear friend, goodbye! When this reaches you, I shall be no more. Don't ask why or wherefore, and don't grieve; be sure that I am better off now.
On the following day lessons were renewed, and life fell back in its ordinary rut. A week flew by in this way. Nejdanov's thoughts and experiences during that time may be best gathered from an extract of a letter he wrote to a certain Silin, an old school chum and his best friend. Silin did not live in St.
Memories of life and laughter, Memories of earthly glee, As I go to the hereafter All my lullaby shall be. When he wrote the word "friend" he thought of Silin. He read the verses over to himself in an undertone, and was surprised at what had come from his pen. This scepticism, this indifference, this almost frivolous lack of faith how did it all agree with his principles?
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