“But the next morning I understood all right.  She had found her way out and no mistake, just turned on the gas and let herself go.  She was dead when they found her.  I don’t blame her, Uncle Phil.  It was too hard for her.  She couldn’t go through with it.  Life had been too hard for her from the beginning.  She never had half a chance.  And in the end we killed her between us, her pious old psalm singing hypocrite of a grandfather, the rotter who ruined her, and myself, the prince of fools.

“I went to see her with the old Doc.  And, Uncle Phil, she was beautiful.  Not even Granny looked more peaceful and happy than she did lying there dead with the little smile on her lips as if she were having a pleasant dream.  But the scar was there on her forehead—­the scar I put there.  I’ve got a scar of my own too.  It doesn’t show on the surface but it is there for all that and always will be.  I shan’t talk about it but I’ll never forget as long as I live that part of the debt she paid was mine.  It is mea culpa for me always so far as she is concerned.

“Her grandfather arrived while I was there.  If ever there was a man broken, mind and body and spirit he was.  I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.  Of the two I would much rather have been Madeline lying there dead than that poor old chap living with her death on his conscience.

“Later I got my official notice from the board.  I was fired.  I wanted to get out of college.  I’m out for better or worse.  Uncle Phil, don’t think I don’t care.  I know how terribly you are going to be hurt and that it will be just about the finish of poor old Larry.  I am not very proud of it myself—­being catapulted out in disgrace where the rest of you left trailing clouds of glory.  It isn’t only what I have done just now.  It is all the things I have done and haven’t done before that has smashed me in the end—­my fool attitude of have a good time and damn the expense.  I didn’t pay at the time.  I am paying now compound interest accumulated.  Worst of it is the rest of you will have to pay with me.  You told me once we couldn’t live to ourselves alone.  I didn’t understand then.  I do now.  I am guilty but you have to suffer with me for my mistakes.  It is that that hurts worst of all.

“You have been wonderful to me always, had oceans of patience when I disappointed you and hurt you and worried you over and over again.  And now here is this last, worst thing of all to forgive.  Can you do it, Uncle Phil?  Please try.  And please don’t worry about me, nor let the others.  I’ll come through all right.  And if I don’t I am not afraid of death.  I have found out there are lots of worse things in the world.  I haven’t any pipe dreams about coming out a hero of any sort but I do mean to come out the kind of a man you won’t be ashamed of and to try my darnedest to live up a little bit to the Holiday specifications.  Again, dear Uncle Phil, please forgive me if you can and write as soon as I can send an address.”  Then a brief postscript.  “The check Madeline sent back never got to me.  If it is forwarded to the Hill please send it or rather its equivalent to the president.  I wouldn’t touch the money with a ten foot pole.  I never wanted it for myself but only for Madeline and she is beyond needing anything any of us can give her now.”