The story may or may not be true, but it is characteristic of you all the same.
I can see you in hobnail boots, and a smock, tramping over the fields, superintending the plough and the breeding of cattle.
I have very little to tell about myself. Since I linked my fate to Kelly’s I live in a new world. Every day that goes by I come nearer to myself, but I cannot write about it. It is too sacred a subject. Troubles which were unknown to me before have taken up their continued abode within me, but joys which were equally strange keep watch over me with drawn swords. Magna, I ask you, can the woman who has brought her own child into the world experience greater bliss and greater torment than I, to whom my boy was given by chance?
With a thousand loving remembrances,
Your
Elsie Lindtner.
The White Villa.
Dear Jeanne,