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.
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