C
304 S. Craig St
Pittsburgh
Jan 10 1897
My Dear Mariel;
It is with considerable fear and trepidation that I address my spidery scrawl
to the proud possessor of the [library
hand](005853). The reasons that I
have'nt
haven't
done it before are many, chiefly because I am doing more [work](005068) than I ever did in my
life before and just the kind of work that everyone always said I'd never be
able to do—work requiring care and judgment I don't do it perfectly by
any means, but it seems to suit the publishers.
I don't need to tell you how much care and anxiety and grief Roscoe's
[illness](005854) has caused me. It
seemed at times that I must go to him, but if
ever the lad needed money he did then and my duty seemed to be to stay here
and edit telegraph. I can never thank you for your kindness to him, Mariel.
How strange it seems that you should be going to comfort him [as you once did me](005091). I look back
upon those years now with a sort of wonder and doubt if it were really I.
Golden days, Mariel, we won't see their like again. I am so deeply sorry for
Allie. Poor little Allie! she was
the gentlest and most easily hurt of us all and it seems as if she were
having the toughest time.
I scarcely know how to tellC you about my life here. It is a queer one, cut up
between rather rigorous work and the craziest possible diversions. The
theatre is about the only part of the old life that merges into this.
Mr. Farrar broke his leg in a
foot ball game several months ago, so I only see him in plaster, but now
that he
does'nt
doesn't
really suffer any more it is rather fun. Unfortunately I don't
seem to be able to feel very deeply about him. His friendship is so warm and
comforting and near to me that I don't want to change it for the other
article in which the personal equation would be sure to make trouble. O I have grown enamoured of liberty! To be wholly
free, to really be of some use somewhere, to do with one's money what one
likes, to help those who have helped me, to pay the debts of one's loves and
of one's hates!
Mrs. Canfield and Dorothy came to see me at Christmas time
and I had to introduce Mrs. C to a lot of club magnates. Fancy her coming to
me for that. O it does my
wickid
wicked
un-Christian heart good to get even, to pay off the old scores and
make people take back the bitter things they said in those years when bitter
thingsLast pages of Jan 10, 189[8] (7) letter: hurt so. But you must not take this
too seriously, I'm not really such a cross sour old thing. I suspect the
trouble tonight is loss of sleep. First it was Melba in opera, next night a supper
party given by Mrs. Collier to
Mr. and Mrs. Crane, next night a dinner to
Ethelbert Nevin the composer,
and tonight I was out to dinner with a crowd at the
Bishop's.
I have met
some very interesting people this year. Got to know Anthony Hope Hawkins quite well, he was
here several days and one of my friends here knew him at Alforth.
Marion Crawford is a terrible
snob. Nansen is all the Norse
gods and heroes in one, though he would talk nothing but Browning and Ibsen. Ethelbert Nevin is prince and
king of them all. He went shopping with me this afternoon and carried my bundles and got me a bunch of violets as
big as a young moon. Think of it, the greatest of American composers and
a fellow
fo
of
thirty with the face of a boy and the laugh of a girl. You
know his "Thine eyes are stars of
morning" and "O that we two were
maying"
"Narcissus" & "Little Boy Blue".
I will do
better than this when I'm not so sleepy. my love to you
all
Willa