help it.
I've got a child, a husband and a mother of my own, at home, and am
tired of being in service and among strangers.

"Does the storm rage so terribly with you? Oh, how the wind blows. If
it would only bear me home. Last night it blew down a tree in front of
my window. It was a fine, large tree, and fell on a figure which it
broke to pieces. Every one said it was very beautiful, but I couldn't
see any beauty in such a thing. It seemed ever so impudent as it stood
there, and was enough to make one blush. I could see the tree and the
figure from my window, and people are already there, putting things to
rights, and carrying all that's damaged out of the way.

"They're very quick about such things here, whether it be a tree, a
marble figure, or a dead child.

"Forgive me for writing such a mixed-up letter. When I get home again,
I can never tell you all that I've gone through here, if I live to be a
hundred years old.

"And when you come, dear Hansei, just put on the clothes that the king
sent, and one of the fine shirts that I made for you when we were
married. They're in the blue closet on the upper shelf on the left-hand
side with the red ribbon. Forgive me for writing all this to you, but
you've had to take care of yourself almost a year, and I haven't been
able to help you, or get your things for you. Now that will all come
right again. I feel as if I were at home already, pulling your
shirt-collar straight, as we go to church of a Sunday morning. I feel
as if it was some one else who had gone through all this, and as if the
days were a high mountain that one can never cross. But all will be
right again, and we'll be merry and happy together, for, thank God,
we've sound limbs, and true hearts. Forgive me, all of you, if I've
ever said a single word to offend you.

"If I had you here, dear Hansei, I'd put my arms round your neck and
kiss you to my heart's content. You and the child and mother are all
the world to me. I'm just beginning to feel how much I love you all,
and I can't understand how I could stay away from you so long, without
dying of grief and homesickness.

"Don't forget to bring a large chest with you, for they've given me
ever so many things.

"And bring me something out of our garden; one of my pinks, and also
one of the child's shoes. But I'll tell you more plainly about this, in
my next letter.

"I can't fall into the ways of the court folk. I'm told that they can't
touch or dress