I believe already that you are true.
If I were never to see you again I should be glad to think of you as
living, and shall always be your friend. I pray that you may come to
know that.
E.
Dear Highness: I do not know what to write to you: I only know how much I
wish to write. I have always written the things I thought about: it has
been easy to find words for them. Now I think about you, but have no
words:--no words, dear Highness, for you! I could write at once if I knew
you were my friend. Come true for me: I will have so much to tell you
then!
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.
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