24: Letter from America
November 1878
St Louis, MissouriMy darlingest boy, my love, my Jack,
I ask myself why I am writing this when I will never send it and you will never read it. I wrote many times before – care of the school and the MacBrides, but when you did not reply I wrote to the Wenlocks and they told me you had married Miss MacBride. Oh my darling, how did they make you do that? Why did you not run away and come to find me? I’m sorry that is not a fair question. I know you would never have agreed to the marriage if you had been left with any choice.
As I write this I have decided to imagine that somehow you will know what I have written. That you can read my mind. That my words will reach you. I know it is foolish, but I cannot help myself. If I do not try to talk to you I s
