No more pain; no more
buzzing; no more headache; no more darkness; won't it be grand,
the rest I'm going to. I shan't be crazy in Heaven. Arthur says
so; and he knows.
"Poor Arthur! It is of him and Miggie I am writing to you, if I
ever can get to them; and Richard; when you hear this read,
Nina'll be there with you; but you can't see her, because you're
blind, and you couldn't see if you wern't, but she'll be there
just the same. She'll sit upon your knee, and wind her arms around
your neck, so as to comfort you when the great cry comes in, the
crash like the breaking up of the winter ice on the northern
ponds, and when you feel yourself all crushed like they are in the
spring, listen and you'll hear her whispering, 'Poor Richard, Nina
pities you so much! She'll kiss your tears away, too, though maybe
you won't feel her. And, Richard, you'll do right, won't you.
You'll give Miggie up. You'll let Arthur have her, and so bring
back the sunshine to her face. She's so pale now and sorry, and
the darkness lies thickly around her.
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