The letter ran as
follows:
"My own Beatrice,--From peril by sea and land I have returned to
claim you. Since we parted I have stood face to face with death
in its most terrible form. Each time I conquered because I felt
I must see you again. It is a trite saying that death is
immortal. Death itself would not part me from you--nay, if I
were buried, and you came to my grave and whispered my name, it
seems to me I must hear you.
"Beatrice, you promised to be my wife--you will not fail me?
Ah, no, it can not be that the blue heavens above will look on
quietly and witness my death blow! You will come to me, and give
me a word, a smile to show how true you have been.
"Last evening I wandered round the grounds, wondering which were
the windows of my love's chamber, and asking myself whether she
was dreaming of me. Life has changed for you since we sat upon
the cliffs at Knutsford and you promised to be my wife. I heard
at the farm all about the great change, and how the young girl
who wandered with me through the bonny green woods is the
daughter of Lord Earle. Your home, doubtless, is a stately one.
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