“I will, most certainly,” replied Hesper, earnestly—“But, then,” she added with some hesitation, “I don’t know how to begin. I would much rather he should write to me first.”
“Which he has done,” said Mose, as he drew a small package from his pocket and tossed it into her lap. “He gave me that, the day I left, and as he put it into my hand, he said—’Mose speak a good word for me to your sweet sister, for though I am sometimes wrong in head, yet I’m true at heart, and shall remain so, if Hesper will consent to be my guiding star.”
There was a somewhat nervous movement to Hesper’s fingers as she attempted to untie the string. As the knot did not yield readily, she clipped it at once with her scissors—tore off the wrapper in haste, and there was a letter and another likeness of Harry.
“Now,” said Mose, as he rose from his seat, “I will leave you to your own reflections, but let me suggest, that if you answer that letter, you must do so soon, for the next mail starts in the course of a few days.”
Scarcely had Mose left the room, when Hesper commenced reading her letter, and we shall consider it no betrayal of confidence, if we give an exact copy.
“My Dear Little Wife:
For so I must ever call you. It seems very awkward, at first, to think of writing to you, but I feel that I must, for my heart is very full, and I wish to awaken an answering spirit in return. The sight of your brother Mose, and the long conversations we have had together about home, has made me almost wish to be a boy again, and to wander hand in hand with you over my native hills once more. It is nearly three years now since we parted, and time must have made some important changes in us both, but I hope it has not touched the blessed affection of our childhood. You are in your eighteenth year now, and I in my twenty-third, therefore we cannot think of each other precisely as we did. I am no longer the wild, careless boy, who ran races with Bose along the seashore, or climbed the hickory trees to shake down the ripened nuts for you. Neither are you now, the little round faced girl whom I so often dragged to school on my sled, or carried over the brook in my arms, when it was so swollen as to overflow the stepping-stones. We loved each other very much then—as much as if we were brother and sister, but I do not want you to think of me as a brother now. The morning I parted from you on the wharf, you threw your arms about my neck, kissing me again and again, as the tears streamed down your rosy cheeks. I said to you—be my good “little wife” till I come back, and then you shall be my wife in reality. You only answered, as you clasped your arms still more closely—’O Harry! Harry! How much I shall miss you!’
After the boat reached the ship, I took the glass, and looking out, I saw that same little girl standing upon the cap-log of the wharf, with her hands shading her eyes, and gazing earnestly towards the ship. Bless her dear good heart! I said to myself, there is not one who thinks more of me than she, and I was glad to know that I should be remembered by one so faithful and true. I have seen some hard experience since then—have fallen into various temptations and done many wrong things, for I grew careless and forgetful. But when Mose came, and I read your letters, so tender, so thoughtful and kind, I longed to be good again, and to have you write such letters to me, only do not write as if I were your brother. O no: Hesper. We are what may be called a young man and woman now, therefore I would have you love me with a different love, which shall grow broader and deeper as time rolls on, and at length unite our hearts as one forever. Hesper, if you will be my guiding star, I shall learn to love all that is high, and noble, and worthy. I shall have something certain to love and labor for, and something to remind me of God and holy things in this heathenish land. Perhaps you think that you are yet too young to turn your mind to such things; but no, Hesper, you are plenty old enough to know whether you can love your old companion more than as a brother; old enough too to think of the new relations and responsibilities which life may bring, and to prepare for them gradually. You can do me much good if you will, Hesper, for there is nothing awakens a young man’s better feelings more effectually, however wayward he may be, than to know that a true hearted, pure minded woman loves him, prays for him, and is willing to trust her happiness to him.
In two years more I shall be home again—’Home again!’ How those words make my heart throb and dim my eyes as I write them! Then, as I clasp your hand in mine, and look upon your well remembered face once more, may it not be with the thought that I am never to be parted from you again? O Hesper! do not take away this great and pleasant hope from me, but write to me words of strength and encouragement, and both God and my own heart shall bless you. Write to me soon, for I shall wait most anxiously to hear from you.