Gaston and Rosebud

The following advertisement contains many little gems of information, and so it seems that the story unfolds itself.

 The Times Monday, Nov 13, 1865; pg. 1; Issue 25341; col B

It reads:  GASTON. I have seen you at last; but alas! too late, for I am now the wife of another, and from henceforth, should we ever chance meet, it must be as strangers. Let me implore you to return my letters, under cover, to Mr. Pollaky, private inquiry office, 13, Paddington-green; and my last prayer is, that you leave England at once, and in other climes endeavour to forget that “Rosebud” ever existed. – Farewell. 

Here is my telling of the story:  Once upon a time, Gaston and “Rosebud” were in the thralls of young love. Their few and scarce moments together were not enough, and so they sent letters to one another, of a personal and private nature, to strengthen the bonds of love between them. Sadly, Gaston’s path led him to the sea in an attempt to make his way through the ranks and gain some fortune. At first, his absence made Rosebud a love-lost romantic, ever waiting for his return. But time reveals all, and after only a few months had past, Rosebud, through the advice and persuasion of her family directed her attentions elsewhere. She was soon married, happily, with Gaston being only a frivolous love story from her youth. That is, until, some years later, when she sees him across the gallery at the theatre, him having returned from the frightful abyss of the sea as a naval officer, gallant and decorated. She feels the pounding of her heart as she remembers the warmth and passion of their love, but this feeling turns cold as his eyes reach hers, and upon recognition, he looks at her with such malice and hatred that she crumbles in her place. Complaining of a sudden and terrible headache, Rosebud is rushed home. As the coach makes its ways through the foggy slick streets a frightful realization strikes like lightning to her soul, surely she has wronged him, and now he holds the secrets of her past in his vengeful hands. Those letters! Everything is in those letters! In the innocence of youth she had unveiled her very soul, and that of her family and closest friends, secrets that her husband and all her dear acquaintances stood in the dark of.  Upon reaching home she scrambles to her private room. With a shaking hand she writes a note, calls the servant in and asks that it be delivered by the footman, to be posted immediately. In Monday’s paper, her note is revealed to the world, but only to Gaston does it have any purpose. She asks that he returns the letters written by her young hand, that he delivers them secretly to Mr. Pollaky, the most well-respected detective in London. She asks that he leave England, return to his true home of the sea. She asks that he takes on a new reality, one in which Rosebud had never existed. Does he comply or does he use those letters to incite her social ruin? In my telling of the story, Mr. Pollaky received the letters the following day. Upon Rosebud’s request they are destroyed, the secrets dead in the ashes.