If you are sad, if you are glad,
And if you miss me there!
Do you recall impatient words
Full of life’s jar and pain?
Oh, I would take them back, dear heart,
If you could come again!
She leaned her beautiful, dark head on her wasted, white hand where the blue veins showed so clearly, and burning tears flowed down her cheeks.
Suzanne entered with the afternoon mail on a salver, placed it on a stand before her mistress, and gently retired.
Dashing away the unwelcome tears, she began going over the letters, mostly affectionate missives from her “dear Four Hundred friends,” expressing affectionate pleasure at her rumored great improvement in health.
Dropping them wearily one after the other, she came upon one addressed in so large a masculine hand that she stared at it in some curiosity.