Englishwoman's Love Letters - Page 38/59

F.

Dear Highness: If I believe in fairy tales coming true, it is because I am

superstitious. This is what I did to-day. I shut my eyes and took a book

from the shelf, opened it, and put my fingers down on a page. This is what

I came to: "All I believed is true!

I am able yet

All I want to get

By a method as strange as new:

Dare I trust the same to you?"

Fate says, then, you are to be my friend. Fate has said I am yours

already. That is very certain. Only in real life where things come true

would a book have opened as this has done.

G.

Dear Highness: I am sure now, then, that I please you, and that you like

me, perhaps only a little: for you turned out of your way to ride with me

though you were going somewhere so fast. How much I wished it when I saw

you coming, but dared not believe it would come true!

"Come true": it is the word I have always been writing, and everything

has:--you most of all! You are more true each time I see you. So true

that now I will write it down at last,--the truth for you who have come

so true.

Dear Highness and Great Heart, I love you dearly, though you don't know

it,--quite ever so much; and am going to love you ever so much more,

only--please like me a little better first! You on your dear side must

do something: or, before I know, I may be wringing my hands all alone on

a desert island to a bare blue horizon, with nothing in it real or

fabulous.

If I am to love you, nothing but happiness is to be allowed to come of

it. So don't come true too fast without one little wee corresponding

wish for me to find that you are! I am quite happy thinking you out

slowly: it takes me all day long; the longer the better!

I wonder how often in my life I shall write down that I love you, having

once written it (I do:--I love you! there [it] is for you, with more to

follow after!); and send you my love as I do now into the great

emptiness of chance, hoping somehow, known or unknown, it may bless you

and bring good to you.

Oh, but 'tis a windy world, and I a mere feather in it: how can I get

blown the way I would?

Still I have a superstition that some star is over me which I have not

seen yet, but shall,--Heaven helping me.