Oh, faith most rare! (_Speaks._) Had you no doubts?
Why should I doubt? We are Betrothed--the same forever, near or far! --He knew my trust Was boundless as his own.
But still you must In reason have known something--must have heard Or else imagined--
For three months no word Until this letter; from its page I learned That my poor Willie had but just returned To the brigade, when struck down unaware. It seems he had been three months absent.
They did not say. I hope to bear him home To-morrow; for in truth I scarce could come, So ill my mother, and so full my hands Of household cares; but, Willie understands.
_Ciel!_ faith like this is senseless--or sublime! Which is it? (_Speaks_). But three months--so long a time--
Were it three years, ’twould be the same. The troth We plighted, freely, lovingly, from both Our true hearts came.
And may as freely go-- Such things have happened! But I will not show One glimpse of doubt to mar the simple trust She cherishes; as soon my hand could thrust A knife in the dove’s breast. (_Speaks._) You’ll find him, dear; All will go well; take courage. Not severe His wound?
Not unto death; but fever bound His senses. When the troops moved on, they found A kindly woman near by Benton’s Mill; And there he lies, poor Willie, up above In her small loft, calling, in tones that thrill: “Oh, come to me, my love, my love, my love!”-- Here is his picture.
What! ’tis Meredith! The girl is mad!--Give it me forthwith! How came you by it?
Here is some strange mistake. This picture shows me Meredith Reid.
Yes, Reid Is Willie’s name; and Meredith, indeed, Is his name also--Meredith Wilmer. I Like not long names, so gave him, lovingly, The pet name Willie.
O ye Powers above! The “pet name Willie!” Would you try to chain Phœbus Apollo with your baby-love And baby-titles? Scarce can I refrain My hands from crushing you!-- You are that girl, Then, the boy’s fancy. Yes, I heard the tale He tried to tell me; but it was so old, So very old! I stopped him with a curl Laid playfully across his lips. “Nay, hold! Enough, enough,” I said; “of what avail The rest? I know it all; ’tis e’er the same Old story of the country lad’s first flame That burns the stubble out. Now by this spell Forget it all.” He did; and it was well He did.
