“God knows,” I said, “I do not want to leave you.”
There was a long silence; I sat there bowed, struggling with my tears; I think I heard footsteps and a closing door. Then a hand was laid upon my shoulder,—I knew whose hand it was, and I shook beneath it.
I only know one thing more that I can tell you. I heard a voice. It was not a loud voice, but it rang through the darkness; it swept the world away.
“Emilia!” it said, “Emilia, you must not leave us! Stay with me,—I love you!”
And then some cloud fell upon us.
Good night, dear, good night.
LETTER XXIX.
The Thatched Cottage, February 19th.
Gabriel and I are sitting in the study; we have your letter before us. These few lines are to thank you, if we can, for your most precious words. Now nothing fails us.
Your most loving, grateful,
Emilia Fletcher.