Edith to Stuart
1.11.17
My Dearest,
You make a mistake when you think that I always want to do what it is right I should do, I generally do what I want to do, but very often it would be much better, if I did not. However, there is an ideal time to which I look forward, when God’s will, and our wills, will be one and the same. This ideal, like all others, will never be attained in this life, but – it will come, and meanwhile, we can strive to get nearer and nearer, until at last our struggles cease, and we reach the desired country. To me, all that we hear about “giving up our wills” and so forth, seems mere cant. To all of us God gave a free-will, and I am sure He intended us to use it. People blame those men who take their own lives, saying “God gave the life, and we should wait until He takes it away”. Yet the same people will commit mental suicide, or rather, try to, and think it a very pious action. On the contrary, they are only making more enemies than they need, for instead of making an ally of the free-will God has given, they are continually struggling to get rid of it. Whenever we have a certain hymn in Church, (you know the one I mean) I always want to tell the people to stop singing for there is a far better way to Heaven that that. However, I expect this is all wrong, and most probably you, who have read ore, and thought more, than I have, can prove to me that it is so. I can only think of one sentence in the Bible that can be said to give any proof, and that was said in such circumstances as no man will ever be placed in. Dearest, I hope this won’t frighten you, but if I do not let you know what is inside me, how can you ever start to get it our? This is more “preachy stuff”, and I am afraid you will be even more disappointed with tonight’s scribble than you were last night. Oh, my Dearest, I wish I could write the most beautiful things for you, but, as I cannot, I am afraid you must be content with this.
And so, Goodnight, my Dearest, We are on day nearer the time when “Goodnight” will not be “Goodbye”.
Good-night, Belovéd, Good-night.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
1 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #15
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 1 1917
My Belovéd,
I fear I cannot write very much this morning as time is very short. I must, however, thank you for all that you said in Tuesday’s note; I feel fairly certain that what you advise is best and will do what I can to follow along those lines.
I am very glad the suggestion of “deep” talks was pleasing to you. We will get on to them shortly, only when I am with you I m not always in the mood. I just feel happy, too happy to talk very much and what I do say is generally very light, is it not? We shall, however, get over that I expect and one of these days I will set “the ball rolling”.
There are so many subjects on which I should like advice that I fear I may overwhelm you when I do start, but if I do, you have only to say and if you can offer little in the shape of advice, I know that I have always your love and sympathy to help me.
I could not help thinking after I had got home last night, of that time to which we refer sometimes, when we shall be together; it seemed to me too good to realize, such happiness as I imagine it seems almost too great, it overwhelms me, and I went to sleep thinking of it.
The thoughts, however, cheer me on, I work now with a definite end in view and I think I am more cheerful than formerly.
I must leave off. This is not so nice as it might be, I expect because it is hurried, but you know I am always thinking of you and loving you.
Goodbye, my Best Belovéd, Goodbye, may you be happy and joyful, may we always be a help and comfort to one another.
Once more, Goodbye, my Love, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 1 1917
My Belovéd,
I fear I cannot write very much this morning as time is very short. I must, however, thank you for all that you said in Tuesday’s note; I feel fairly certain that what you advise is best and will do what I can to follow along those lines.
I am very glad the suggestion of “deep” talks was pleasing to you. We will get on to them shortly, only when I am with you I m not always in the mood. I just feel happy, too happy to talk very much and what I do say is generally very light, is it not? We shall, however, get over that I expect and one of these days I will set “the ball rolling”.
There are so many subjects on which I should like advice that I fear I may overwhelm you when I do start, but if I do, you have only to say and if you can offer little in the shape of advice, I know that I have always your love and sympathy to help me.
I could not help thinking after I had got home last night, of that time to which we refer sometimes, when we shall be together; it seemed to me too good to realize, such happiness as I imagine it seems almost too great, it overwhelms me, and I went to sleep thinking of it.
The thoughts, however, cheer me on, I work now with a definite end in view and I think I am more cheerful than formerly.
I must leave off. This is not so nice as it might be, I expect because it is hurried, but you know I am always thinking of you and loving you.
Goodbye, my Best Belovéd, Goodbye, may you be happy and joyful, may we always be a help and comfort to one another.
Once more, Goodbye, my Love, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
30 October 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #14
Edith to Stuart
30.10.17
My Belovéd
I have kept you waiting a long time for an answer to the note you gave me on Friday, but I have been thinking a great deal about what you wrote. I wish I could help you in your difficulty; in fact, it would please me more than anything else to know that you were quite happy at home. But I do not see what you can do to make things better. I think that what is wanted now is a little effort on the other side; for no matter how much you try to make yourself sociable, you will not succeed, unless the others are willing to respond, even a little bit. When you are at home you should be yourself, as much as possible. It is often necessary, during the day, when you are out among comparative strangers, to stifle your own feelings, and to act in ways contrary to your nature. But you must let all this drop when you get home, and just be yourself. You might think it would be for the good of the others if you kept up the deception at home, and pretended to be some-one who you are not. But I am sure this is not right, for the continual effort would only lead, in the end, to bad-temper, or ill-health, or something else. Your home is the place where you are to rest, to let yourself go, and nothing will go right unless you do get enough rest. I do not only mean sleep, but rest in other ways as well. Even suppose you succeed in your efforts, and are “sociable” enough to please Gladys and the boys, there will probably come a time when you cannot keep up the deception, either through ill-health, or some other trouble, then, when you want their help and comradeship more than at any time, they will fail you, because they will find out that it is not you they like, but the person you pretended to be. Do as much for Gladys and the boys as you can, show them that you are interested in what they do, and the things they like, in short, be a loving older brother to them, and then – “just leave the rest to Him”.
I am glad that you have suggested “deep talks”, because I feel, as you do, that they would be very helpful. Only, it’s difficult to lead up to them, isn’t it? But I expect you know the way, or, if you do not, they will come naturally very soon. I think of many things I should like to talk about, but when we are together, they all go.
Now, Good-night, Belovéd, I wish this were a better letter, because you deserve better, but, perhaps I’ll learn how to write them some day.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
All’s Well
Is the pathway dark and dreary?
God’s in His heaven!
Are you broken, heart-sick, weary?
God’s in His heaven!
Dreariest roads shall have an ending,
Broken hearts are for Gods, mending
All’s well! All’s well!
All’s ---well!
Is the burden past your bearing?
God’s in His heaven!
Hopeless! – Friendless? – No one caring?
God’s in His heaven!
Burdens shared are light to carry,
Love shall come, though long He tarry.
All’s well! All’s well!
All’s ---well!
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
30.10.17
My Belovéd
I have kept you waiting a long time for an answer to the note you gave me on Friday, but I have been thinking a great deal about what you wrote. I wish I could help you in your difficulty; in fact, it would please me more than anything else to know that you were quite happy at home. But I do not see what you can do to make things better. I think that what is wanted now is a little effort on the other side; for no matter how much you try to make yourself sociable, you will not succeed, unless the others are willing to respond, even a little bit. When you are at home you should be yourself, as much as possible. It is often necessary, during the day, when you are out among comparative strangers, to stifle your own feelings, and to act in ways contrary to your nature. But you must let all this drop when you get home, and just be yourself. You might think it would be for the good of the others if you kept up the deception at home, and pretended to be some-one who you are not. But I am sure this is not right, for the continual effort would only lead, in the end, to bad-temper, or ill-health, or something else. Your home is the place where you are to rest, to let yourself go, and nothing will go right unless you do get enough rest. I do not only mean sleep, but rest in other ways as well. Even suppose you succeed in your efforts, and are “sociable” enough to please Gladys and the boys, there will probably come a time when you cannot keep up the deception, either through ill-health, or some other trouble, then, when you want their help and comradeship more than at any time, they will fail you, because they will find out that it is not you they like, but the person you pretended to be. Do as much for Gladys and the boys as you can, show them that you are interested in what they do, and the things they like, in short, be a loving older brother to them, and then – “just leave the rest to Him”.
I am glad that you have suggested “deep talks”, because I feel, as you do, that they would be very helpful. Only, it’s difficult to lead up to them, isn’t it? But I expect you know the way, or, if you do not, they will come naturally very soon. I think of many things I should like to talk about, but when we are together, they all go.
Now, Good-night, Belovéd, I wish this were a better letter, because you deserve better, but, perhaps I’ll learn how to write them some day.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
All’s Well
Is the pathway dark and dreary?
God’s in His heaven!
Are you broken, heart-sick, weary?
God’s in His heaven!
Dreariest roads shall have an ending,
Broken hearts are for Gods, mending
All’s well! All’s well!
All’s ---well!
Is the burden past your bearing?
God’s in His heaven!
Hopeless! – Friendless? – No one caring?
God’s in His heaven!
Burdens shared are light to carry,
Love shall come, though long He tarry.
All’s well! All’s well!
All’s ---well!
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Monday, 21 September 2009
30 October 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #13
Stuart to Edith
Oct. 30 1917
Belovéd,
What an unexpected pleasure it was to see you last night! I was particularly glad because I had not been able to write any thing for your for last evening, and although I am not much of a writer, I am conceited enough to think that you like to have either me or a note.
What I shall write this morning I hardly know. Many thoughts come into my head during the day, but when they turn towards you everything else seems to fly away and all I think of is YOU (in very big capitals).
The unexpected pleasures that have come to me through you are manifold, each perhaps small in itself but very large in the bulk; they have helped to put a new joy in life, to give me fresh energy in my preparation for the future, to make me more confident of decisions which I often make with regard to my own conduct.
It will seem very strange to you, perhaps, for me to say that I have never before, I think, met any one who understands my point of view as you do.
Those to whom I have spoken in the past all seemed to advise what they thought was best for me personally, generally the easy thing. And their opinion seemed to me often the selfish one. I am so please to find you do not take this line, but advise what you think to be right. I candidly admit that more than once you frightened me when you said you always did what you wanted, but you opened my eyes and made me realize how high you had reached when you told me that it was your duty you wanted to do, and which though distasteful maybe at first, come to be pleasing.
I am afraid this is what you, in one of your notes, called “preachy stuff”. If you don’t like it, please forgive me; you know it was not written in that spirit, it is just an expression of a thought which ran through my head as I sat here writing and thinking of you.
I must say Good-bye now, as it is nearly time to meet you. Good-bye, be happy, (I am so pleased to think I have helped to make you happier), may our love never grow less, but increase and grow stronger until it is perfect, my Own, my Love.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Oct. 30 1917
Belovéd,
What an unexpected pleasure it was to see you last night! I was particularly glad because I had not been able to write any thing for your for last evening, and although I am not much of a writer, I am conceited enough to think that you like to have either me or a note.
What I shall write this morning I hardly know. Many thoughts come into my head during the day, but when they turn towards you everything else seems to fly away and all I think of is YOU (in very big capitals).
The unexpected pleasures that have come to me through you are manifold, each perhaps small in itself but very large in the bulk; they have helped to put a new joy in life, to give me fresh energy in my preparation for the future, to make me more confident of decisions which I often make with regard to my own conduct.
It will seem very strange to you, perhaps, for me to say that I have never before, I think, met any one who understands my point of view as you do.
Those to whom I have spoken in the past all seemed to advise what they thought was best for me personally, generally the easy thing. And their opinion seemed to me often the selfish one. I am so please to find you do not take this line, but advise what you think to be right. I candidly admit that more than once you frightened me when you said you always did what you wanted, but you opened my eyes and made me realize how high you had reached when you told me that it was your duty you wanted to do, and which though distasteful maybe at first, come to be pleasing.
I am afraid this is what you, in one of your notes, called “preachy stuff”. If you don’t like it, please forgive me; you know it was not written in that spirit, it is just an expression of a thought which ran through my head as I sat here writing and thinking of you.
I must say Good-bye now, as it is nearly time to meet you. Good-bye, be happy, (I am so pleased to think I have helped to make you happier), may our love never grow less, but increase and grow stronger until it is perfect, my Own, my Love.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 20 September 2009
26 October 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #12
Stuart to Edith
Oct. 26 1917
Best Belovéd,
I think it is quite time you had another note from me, and although I hope to see you to-night, I will try to write one now before I get up.
I wish I could thank you sufficiently for all your kindness to me during the last fortnight, but I cannot; I wonder if you realize anything of what it has meant to me to see you so often, to think of you more often, to love you always.
Since I have been at home, I have been thinking very seriously about many things, and if you can, I want you to help me. I expect you have realized that my great difficulty is my family, not so much financially (although that is difficulty enough) but because I am not one of them.
My brother, with whom I have had some correspondence on the subject, suggests that it is largely caused by my own disposition and behaviour, that I am too austere, grim and stern, and that if I would unbend a little more, I should find an improvement. Corrie said a very similar thing yesterday, his words were “You have got your own sphere and you won’t budge out of it”.
Yet I do not quite see what to do. I told Harold[1] I would give his suggestion a trial, as I am extremely anxious that all here should be happy, but so far my efforts have failed. Wednesday night was a good example.
I came home to keep Gladys company as she was alone; I was unable to find an interesting topic of conversation, games were negatived, so I got out some books and wrote some letters, hoping that by talking now and again I should do right. The result was an absolute failure. Gladys said she had never spent a worse evening. Nor had she been so bored in her life.
Can you tell me why it is? Is it through any fault of my own, or is it that our dispositions and tastes are so entirely different, that they will not blend. Gladys tells me I can’t be sociable, and that when I try I become silly, with which statement the boys agreed. Corrie instancing my behaviour at Harpenden at Whitsun and Reggie[2] my behaviour in Bagley Wood when we went primrosing, when they both said they were “disgusted” with me.
You know me fairly well, I think; can you help me? Would it be better for me to try to be sociable or shall I be myself? It is a big and difficult problem, I know, Belovéd, and I don’t want you to worry yourself about it, but two heads are better than one very often, especially when the second head is in sympathy with the first.
This has been very very serious so far, my Belovéd, has it not? but I have not finished yet.
There is no need for me to say that you have been very much in my thoughts, and one particular thought has come to me very often. We love each other deeply, as truly and as purely as possible, we believe; but we do not yet know each other intimately. We are each, I think, reluctant (or we find it difficult, at least) to express our deepest and most real thoughts except on paper. I think I know the reason of this; that we are different from other people, and we have rarely found a person quite in sympathy with us, not even in our own families, that by degrees, we have hidden our deepest thoughts and it is now difficult to dig them up.
It seems to me that it would be a great joy and help if we, who hope to spend our lives together helping one another, could contrive to have deep talks together about things which one is apt to hide; such as religion, our own ideas of life, and - I expect you know what I mean.
Hasn’t this been serious? Not too much so, I hope; and I hope it will not hurt at all, my belovéd. I don’t think it will, but I fear I am somewhat of a blunderer and speak too bluntly at times. Whenever I hurt, please tell me and I will be more careful, for you know, my love, I would not hurt you one little bit, for I love you so much.
Now Goodbye, Best Belovéd, my Helper and Comforter, Good bye for a little while.
PSM
[1] Harold Christopher Mills, 7 January 1895 to 14 January 1974 (Stuart's brother)
[2] Reginald Leslie Mills, 13 December 1902 to (Stuart's brother)
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Oct. 26 1917
Best Belovéd,
I think it is quite time you had another note from me, and although I hope to see you to-night, I will try to write one now before I get up.
I wish I could thank you sufficiently for all your kindness to me during the last fortnight, but I cannot; I wonder if you realize anything of what it has meant to me to see you so often, to think of you more often, to love you always.
Since I have been at home, I have been thinking very seriously about many things, and if you can, I want you to help me. I expect you have realized that my great difficulty is my family, not so much financially (although that is difficulty enough) but because I am not one of them.
My brother, with whom I have had some correspondence on the subject, suggests that it is largely caused by my own disposition and behaviour, that I am too austere, grim and stern, and that if I would unbend a little more, I should find an improvement. Corrie said a very similar thing yesterday, his words were “You have got your own sphere and you won’t budge out of it”.
Yet I do not quite see what to do. I told Harold[1] I would give his suggestion a trial, as I am extremely anxious that all here should be happy, but so far my efforts have failed. Wednesday night was a good example.
I came home to keep Gladys company as she was alone; I was unable to find an interesting topic of conversation, games were negatived, so I got out some books and wrote some letters, hoping that by talking now and again I should do right. The result was an absolute failure. Gladys said she had never spent a worse evening. Nor had she been so bored in her life.
Can you tell me why it is? Is it through any fault of my own, or is it that our dispositions and tastes are so entirely different, that they will not blend. Gladys tells me I can’t be sociable, and that when I try I become silly, with which statement the boys agreed. Corrie instancing my behaviour at Harpenden at Whitsun and Reggie[2] my behaviour in Bagley Wood when we went primrosing, when they both said they were “disgusted” with me.
You know me fairly well, I think; can you help me? Would it be better for me to try to be sociable or shall I be myself? It is a big and difficult problem, I know, Belovéd, and I don’t want you to worry yourself about it, but two heads are better than one very often, especially when the second head is in sympathy with the first.
This has been very very serious so far, my Belovéd, has it not? but I have not finished yet.
There is no need for me to say that you have been very much in my thoughts, and one particular thought has come to me very often. We love each other deeply, as truly and as purely as possible, we believe; but we do not yet know each other intimately. We are each, I think, reluctant (or we find it difficult, at least) to express our deepest and most real thoughts except on paper. I think I know the reason of this; that we are different from other people, and we have rarely found a person quite in sympathy with us, not even in our own families, that by degrees, we have hidden our deepest thoughts and it is now difficult to dig them up.
It seems to me that it would be a great joy and help if we, who hope to spend our lives together helping one another, could contrive to have deep talks together about things which one is apt to hide; such as religion, our own ideas of life, and - I expect you know what I mean.
Hasn’t this been serious? Not too much so, I hope; and I hope it will not hurt at all, my belovéd. I don’t think it will, but I fear I am somewhat of a blunderer and speak too bluntly at times. Whenever I hurt, please tell me and I will be more careful, for you know, my love, I would not hurt you one little bit, for I love you so much.
Now Goodbye, Best Belovéd, my Helper and Comforter, Good bye for a little while.
PSM
[1] Harold Christopher Mills, 7 January 1895 to 14 January 1974 (Stuart's brother)
[2] Reginald Leslie Mills, 13 December 1902 to (Stuart's brother)
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 19 September 2009
19 October 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #11
Edith to Stuart
19.10.17
My Dearest
You must have just a brief note this morning, because I want to thank you for – everything. You do not know what a difference you have made to me, or else you would not say that you do not see how you are to help me. You have given me something to look forward to at the end of the day, you have given me something to look forward to at the end of school-life, (not the little school-house, where I would live by myself) you have given me something beautiful, to think about always, you have given me an aim that I am continually striving to reach. More than all this, you have given me the most precious thing on earth, yourself. Dearest, I can never thank you for all this, but you know I would, don’t you?
I was speaking to Katie about what you wanted to give me last night, and she said that the red cover is on Gladys’s bed. If it is, Dearest, you must not take it off. I would very much like to have it, but not from her bed. I can have it at some other time, can’t I? I thank you for both things, and I hope you will never have them back again.
You asked me, Dearest, in your “bluey letter”, to pray for you. Now I’ll tell you something which will show you what a queer person I am. I have prayed for you regularly, two or three times a day, for at least three years. I have not known you all that time, but I knew that there was a Man, somewhere, and at times I wanted him very badly. Shall I tell you what I called him? I knew he would not be walking out with any other girl, so I called him, “The Man who walks by himself”. Now God has sent him to me, and his old name does not apply. Are you happy, Dearest?
Goodbye, My Belovéd, until this evening. Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
19.10.17
My Dearest
You must have just a brief note this morning, because I want to thank you for – everything. You do not know what a difference you have made to me, or else you would not say that you do not see how you are to help me. You have given me something to look forward to at the end of the day, you have given me something to look forward to at the end of school-life, (not the little school-house, where I would live by myself) you have given me something beautiful, to think about always, you have given me an aim that I am continually striving to reach. More than all this, you have given me the most precious thing on earth, yourself. Dearest, I can never thank you for all this, but you know I would, don’t you?
I was speaking to Katie about what you wanted to give me last night, and she said that the red cover is on Gladys’s bed. If it is, Dearest, you must not take it off. I would very much like to have it, but not from her bed. I can have it at some other time, can’t I? I thank you for both things, and I hope you will never have them back again.
You asked me, Dearest, in your “bluey letter”, to pray for you. Now I’ll tell you something which will show you what a queer person I am. I have prayed for you regularly, two or three times a day, for at least three years. I have not known you all that time, but I knew that there was a Man, somewhere, and at times I wanted him very badly. Shall I tell you what I called him? I knew he would not be walking out with any other girl, so I called him, “The Man who walks by himself”. Now God has sent him to me, and his old name does not apply. Are you happy, Dearest?
Goodbye, My Belovéd, until this evening. Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Friday, 18 September 2009
18 October 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #10
Edith to Stuart
18.10.17
My Dearest
You shall not be disappointed again this morning, as you were yesterday, but I do not know if I can write in the morning. It is very awkward writing at night in our house, for if I write downstairs, the others are all talking and laughing, and may quite possibly see what I am writing; and if I write upstairs, I am unsociable, or keep my candle burning too long, or something. So here’s an experiment.
Now, I must go right back to your first letter, in which you asked me how your picture of the future appeals to me. As such a call has come to you, I think it is the highest and noblest work which you can do. I came across this little bit in a book I was reading yesterday, “He who adds the least touch of beauty to a sacred life does more than he who paints a master-piece; but he who brings a lost soul to the Saviour, who seeks and finds a wandering sheep, and bears it back to the fold, does the noblest, greatest work possible on this earth”. You intend to devote your whole life to this “noblest, greatest work”, either in England, or the Mission Field, and it makes me very happy, dearest, to think of the time when you will have attained that part of your aim. There are some things I think about Missionary work which I will tell you later. Meanwhile, dearest, be happy in the thought that God has called you to nobler work than He gives to most, to the same work for which He sent His Son to live upon this earth.
I cannot tell you, Dearest, exactly how you have helped me in my school life, but you have a great deal. I do not mind it at all now, and there are some lessons which I really enjoy. I expect, as time goes on, I will get to like them all, so, Dearest, do not be uneasy about me, and believe that I am speaking the absolute truth when I tell you that I am getting on all right. If things do go wrong, I will tell you, Dearest.
Now I shall have to stop, though there is a great deal more I want to say. Be happy today, Dearest, and get strong and well quickly, so that you can soon come to school with me again.
Goodbye, My Dearest, my Own, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
18.10.17
My Dearest
You shall not be disappointed again this morning, as you were yesterday, but I do not know if I can write in the morning. It is very awkward writing at night in our house, for if I write downstairs, the others are all talking and laughing, and may quite possibly see what I am writing; and if I write upstairs, I am unsociable, or keep my candle burning too long, or something. So here’s an experiment.
Now, I must go right back to your first letter, in which you asked me how your picture of the future appeals to me. As such a call has come to you, I think it is the highest and noblest work which you can do. I came across this little bit in a book I was reading yesterday, “He who adds the least touch of beauty to a sacred life does more than he who paints a master-piece; but he who brings a lost soul to the Saviour, who seeks and finds a wandering sheep, and bears it back to the fold, does the noblest, greatest work possible on this earth”. You intend to devote your whole life to this “noblest, greatest work”, either in England, or the Mission Field, and it makes me very happy, dearest, to think of the time when you will have attained that part of your aim. There are some things I think about Missionary work which I will tell you later. Meanwhile, dearest, be happy in the thought that God has called you to nobler work than He gives to most, to the same work for which He sent His Son to live upon this earth.
I cannot tell you, Dearest, exactly how you have helped me in my school life, but you have a great deal. I do not mind it at all now, and there are some lessons which I really enjoy. I expect, as time goes on, I will get to like them all, so, Dearest, do not be uneasy about me, and believe that I am speaking the absolute truth when I tell you that I am getting on all right. If things do go wrong, I will tell you, Dearest.
Now I shall have to stop, though there is a great deal more I want to say. Be happy today, Dearest, and get strong and well quickly, so that you can soon come to school with me again.
Goodbye, My Dearest, my Own, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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