ght kill myself to free you, but I
should never do--what I may do now. But, William, you'll forget me soon.
You'll pass great laws, and make great speeches, and the years when I
tormented you--and all my wretched ways--will seem such a small, small
thing.

"Geoffrey says he loves me. And I think he does, though how long it will
last, or may be worth, no one can tell. As for me, I don't know whether
I love him. I have no illusion about him. But there are moments when he
absolutely holds me--when my will is like wax in his hands. It is
because, I think, of a certain grandness--<i>grandeur</i> seems too
strong--in his character. It was always there; because no one could
write such poems as his without it. But now it's more marked, though I
don't know that it makes him a better man. He thinks it does; but we all
deceive ourselves. At any rate, he is often superb, and I feel that I
could die, if not for him, at least with him. And he is not unlikely to
die in some heroic way. He went out as you know simply as correspondent
and to distribute relief, but lately he has been fighting for these
people--of course he has!--and when he goes back he is to be one of
their regular leaders. When he talks of it he is noble, transformed. It
reminds me of Byron--his wicked life here--and then his death at
Missolonghi. Geoffrey can do such base, cruel things--and yet--

"But I haven't yet told you. He asks me to go with him, back to the
fighting-lines in upper Bosnia. There seems to be a great deal that
women can do. I shall wear a nurse's uniform, and probably nurse at a
little hospital he founded--high up in one of the mountain valleys. I
know this will almost make you laugh. You will think of me, not knowing
how to put on a button without Blanche--and wanting to be waited on
every moment. But you'll see; there'll be nothing of that sort. I wonder
whether it's hardship I've been thirsting for all my life--even when I
seemed such a selfish, luxurious little ape?

"At the same time, I think it will kill me--and that would be the best
end of all. To have some great, heroic experience, and then--'cease upon
the midnight with no pain!...'

"Oh, if I thought you'd care very, <i>very</i> much, I should have
pain--horrible pain. But I know you won't. Politics have taken my place.
Think of me sometimes, as I was when we were first married--and of
Harry--my little, little fellow!

"--Maman and I have had a ghastly scene. She came to scold me f