It is all that connects me now with life
and with you. But I have nothing more to say except, forgive -
forgive -
"Do you think that God looks at his wretched ones differently from
what men do? That He will have tenderness for one so sorry - that
He will even find place - But my mother is there! my father! Oh,
that makes it fearful to go - to meet - But it was my father who
led me into this - only he did not know - There! I will think
only of God.
"Good by - good by - good - "
That was all. It ended, as it began, without name and without date,
- the final heart-throbs of a soul, awakened to its own act when it
was quite too late. A piteous memorial which daunted each one of
us as we read it, and when finished, drew us all together in the
hall out of the sight and hearing of the two persons most intimately
concerned in it.
Possibly because all had one thought - a thrilling one, which the
major was the first to give utterance to.
"The man she killed was buried under the name of Wallace. How's
that, if he was her husband, William?"
An officer we had not before noted was standing near the front door.
He came forward at this and placed a second telegram in the
superintendent's hand. It was from the same source as the one
previously received and appeared to settle this very question.
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