Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1892-12-01

the truth now-I love you fondly. 1t
seems to me that | have read your heart
and soul in your letters If 1 should
never write again-if I should fall to-
morrow, as I believe | shall-remember
that my last thoughts were of you-of
you whom [ have thought constantly of
late-and think sometimes of me- Good
by-perhaps good-by forever. I wish
L could have known you better.
And / ended with my name.
The next day 1 was in the midst of
the worst fight l had ever been in [
can't rmember much Of it. but | know
that it was terrible. | saw more than
one poor fellow l knew drop at my side,
but some one else took his place At
last it was my turn. "A crash, an agony,
a thought that my forebodings had prov
ed true, and 1 knew nothing.
When l came to myself it was in a
hospital tent, and l found that 1 had
been there many days. My right arm
was gone, and they fancied then that
the rest of me was going after it; but
| was young and I rallied.
[ didn't want to. Life looked very
dark. l couldn't see much hope in it.
And then it was I began to take some
interest in novels and in poetry and to
feel as the rest felt-wild to get hold Of
any book or paper kind people brought
| to us.
| One day | was reading q love story,
and crying over it, too, like a girl, for
| was not much stronger than the weak
| est of them are, when the chaplain stood
at my cot. "A letter for you he said.
1T has Travelled a good way after you;
it's in a lady's hand too" l took the
little white thing with my heart beat
monlOantybCthbdoD
ing like a sledge hammer, and | turned
it over and over again. 1 couldn't bring
myself to open it at first [ knew whom
only the day before.
At last | broke the seal and this is
what [ read within:
Dear Paul-Dear friend, L have heard
of your misfortune. | have grieved
over it, For awhile [ thought | was
! grieVing for one dead. l have been
very happy since l heard that you would
live. They tell me you will be at home
soon; when you come we will meet If
my letters have pleased you, as you say
they have, it would be wrong to keep
my name a secret any longer. l began
| the correspondence in mere sport. as
did the rest of us. 1t is sport no longer
You have been writing to one you knew
Ito Rachel Stockton.
! To Rachel Stockton. l gasped for
breath. l felt faint and giddy. Could
it be hoax? l answered No at once
| 1t must be the serious fact unless [ was
quite mad, and then she must have liked
Inc a little in those old times when | be-
came a soldier for her sake
| If I had known that perhaps I might
never have left Hay Hill.
And now, instead of marching home
with uniform and epauIets, / must take
my empty sleeve back to the farm, and
| be not half as useful or as happy as |
had been. [ did not regret what had
done for my country, but l had quite
lost Rachel. If | had been afraid to
WOO her before, how must it be now?
[ hid my face in my pillow and the
letter next my heart. The sudden
| knowledge that had come upon me
frightened me- Before next morning |
had come to a resolution.
Day and night | studied to learn to
write with my left hand, for l could
| contide in no one, and at last the first
| ScraWl was completed. In it l told her
all-hoW | had loved her; how, knowing
myself not her equal, | had thought TO
win name she might be proud to bear;
how the transcript Of her soul had eff
faced the image Of her beauty, so that.
| us the writer Of those letters, she had
| been her own rival, and how, now that
[ found myself no officer crowned with
| hOnors, but only a poor, disabled pri-
vate soldier | knew that all | had hoped
must be remembered only as a dream,
| but that l still must love her-love her
while | lived tenderly and passionate
ly and truly, as though had the power,
as had the will, to WOO and win and
cherish her.
The letter went. | thought it the
finale of my love tale. But there was to
be another ending. had grown better,
and was at home. All the little world
save l was busy, and I sat on the old
porch i'll the trembling shadows of the
vine leaves. There l heard a step be
hind me and turned and saw Rachel
| Stockton.
| Paul" she said, and gave me her
| hand, and | took it. I held it as men
hold the hand of women whom they
love. I looked into her eyes, filed and
oyerbrimming with bright tears. 1 for
got she was the rich heiress. I only
remembered the Leah who had written
those letters.
And so that came to pass which had
seemed too wild a dream ever to come
true, and [ found my arm about her
waist and her head upon my bosom,
and had said to her:
Remember, I am a crippled man,
and one who can offer you neither
wealth nor name. Even what had
strength and some little shadow of
good looks-are gone. l am sadly alter
ed"
Then her hand, pressed upon my lips,
silenced me.
You have not altered to me-" she
whispered. 81 lfave loved you long,
long while-long before you knew me
as Leah-and I love you better now
than ever"
Then a great joy filed my soul, and
I thanked heaven.
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