Angel, I live entirely for you. I love you too much to

blame you for going away, and I know it was necessary you

should find a farm. Do not think I shall say a word of

sting or bitterness. Only come back to me. I am desolate

without you, my darling, O, so desolate! I do not mind

having to work: but if you will send me one little line,

and say, "I am coming soon," I will bide on, Angel--O, so

cheerfully! It has been so much my religion ever since we were married

to be faithful to you in every thought and look, that even

when a man speaks a compliment to me before I am aware, it

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seems wronging you. Have you never felt one little bit of

what you used to feel when we were at the dairy? If you

have, how can you keep away from me? I am the same women,

Angel, as you fell in love with; yes, the very same!--not

the one you disliked but never saw. What was the past to me

as soon as I met you? It was a dead thing altogether. I

became another woman, filled full of new life from you. How

could I be the early one? Why do you not see this? Dear,

if you would only be a little more conceited, and believe

in yourself so far as to see that you were strong enough to

work this change in me, you would perhaps be in a mind to

come to me, your poor wife.

How silly I was in my happiness when I thought I could trust

you always to love me! I ought to have known that such as

that was not for poor me. But I am sick at heart, not only

for old times, but for the present. Think--think how it do

hurt my heart not to see you ever--ever! Ah, if I could

only make your dear heart ache one little minute of each day

as mine does every day and all day long, it might lead you

to show pity to your poor lonely one.

People still say that I am rather pretty, Angel (handsome is

the word they use, since I wish to be truthful). Perhaps I

am what they say. But I do not value my good looks; I only

like to have them because they belong to you, my dear, and

that there may be at least one thing about me worth your

having. So much have I felt this, that when I met with

annoyance on account of the same, I tied up my face in a

bandage as long as people would believe in it. O Angel, I

tell you all this not from vanity--you will certainly know

I do not--but only that you may come to me!




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