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#2824: Willa Cather to Annie Adams Fields, [October 4, 1908]

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⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ Dear Mrs. Fields1:

May this letter find you as well and vigorous as you were a week ago today, and enjoying just such golden weather as we had then. On Friday the maid told me that you were more comfortable, but I have not heard since then and I should be glad to know certainly that you are quite over that sharp turn of illness. I am steadfastly hoping that you have emerged from it as well as you were before it came upon you.

I came down to New York2 on Friday afternoon in response to a tele- gram from the office. Things are a good deal too tense and strained here just now to be agreeable, and it is hard to do one's work well with this kind of uncertainty hanging over one. When I am quite disheartened and desperate I draw a circle and call up the memory of those two blue-and-gold days I had with you and Miss Jewett4, and they do enliven the gray atmosphere quite magically. And I am further encouraged and cheered by a hope I am cherishing; it is that you will someday read for me all the last half of "Tristram and Isult,"5 from the part beginning "The air of the December night." I am fond of that last part from old time, and, someday, if you will read it for me, then I shall always remember it that way as long as I remember anything. I wanted so much to ask you to read it last Sunday night, but I was afraid of tiring you. But the very next day I began planning it all out, and if you had been well on Monday night I would have pressed you hard.

Mr. Greenslet6 was just incredibly kind to me when I was in Boston7 and helped me to get the things I wanted, going after them with more zeal than most people can muster to the prosecution of their own ends. I wish his life of Aldrich8 were better! I read it coming down on the train. I went on from chapter to chapter, but I could not find in the book any man large enough to warrant a book's having been written. It is the most firesidey biography! Surely Mr. Aldrich9 must have been something besides the father of his twins10. I somehow cannot find a man of letters in the book. Mr Greenslet is such a chivalrous, sympathetic fellow that Mrs. Aldrich11 could just have her way with him without his ever realizing it. He would, beyond everything else, avoid giving pain, and would never know that his whole mental attitude was being warped into a kind of reassuring condolence.

I am writing to you in the little apartment in which you took such a kindly interest. Some of the wall paper is too bright and some of it is to dark, but it is all bran new and clean. Some of the furniture is distinctly ludicrous—but then, its well enough to have certain pretexts for dull wit about, especially when the days at the office are as long and discouraging as they are now.—But I must not whine. And, ⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ as I have told you, those good days at Manchester12 did put a new spirit in me and give me a new tune to whistle up my courage with. Thank you so much for them.

I have not read Mrs. Ward13's first chapter14 yet, but I am going to send you the proofs of them tomorrow. They tell me at the office that these first two chapters have all the qualities of melodrama except interest. That is not very cheering for us, is it?

With all the good wishes in the world to you, dear Mrs. Fields, I am

Lovingly Willa Cather