Perhaps I _was_ "a good girl." Anyhow, I was a good nurse. Not that I
deserved much credit! Brian was fighting, and in danger day and night.
You were gone; and I was glad to be a soldier in my way, with never a
minute to think of myself. Besides, somehow I wasn't one bit afraid. I
_loved_ the work. But, _Padre mio_, I am not a good girl now. I'm a
wicked girl, wickeder than you or I ever dreamed it was in me to be, at
my worst. Yet if your spirit should appear as I write, to warn me that
I'm sinning an unpardonable sin, I should go on sinning it.
For one thing, it's for Brian, twin brother of my body, twin brother of
my heart. For another thing, it's too late to turn back. There's a door
that has slammed shut behind me.
* * * * *
Now, I'll begin and tell you everything exactly as it happened. Many a
"confession-letter" I've begun in just these words, but never one like
this. I don't deserve that it should bring me the heartease which used
to come. But the thought of you is my star in darkness. Brian is the
last person to whom I can speak, because above all things I want him to
be happy. On earth there is no one else. Beyond the earth there
is--_you_.
When Brian was wounded, they expected him to die, and he was asking for
me. The telegram came one day when we had all been rather overworked in
the hospital, and I was feeling ready to drop. I must only have imagined
my tiredness though, for when I heard about Brian I grew suddenly strong
as steel.
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