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
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!