So Widow Wenner read, And wondered of the writer, since no name Was signed; and wept a little, dried her eyes And flushed with anger, said, "adulteress, Adulteress who played the game of pity, And wove about my husband's heart the spell Of masculine sympathy for a sorrowing woman, A trick as old as Eden. And who knows But all the money went here in the end? For if a woman plunges from her aim To piety, devotion such as this, She will plunge back to sin, unstable heart, That swings from self-denial to indulgence And spends itself in both." Then Widow Wenner Took up the second letter: "I have signed To go to France to-day. I wrote you once I planned to take the veil, become a nun. But now the war has changed my thought. I see In service for my country fuller life, More useful sacrifice and greater work Than ever I could have, being a nun. The cause is so momentous. Think, my dear, This woman who still thinks of you will be A factor in this war for liberty, A soldier serving soldiers, giving strength, Health, hope and spirit to the soldier boys Who fall, must be restored to fight again. I've thrown my soul in this, am all aflame. You should have seen me when I took the oath, And raised my hand and pledged my word to serve, Support the law. I want to think of you As proud of me for doing this--be proud, Be grateful, too, that I have strength and will To give myself to this. And if it chance, As almost I am hoping, that the work Should break me, sweep me under, think of me As one who died for country, as I shall As truly as the soldiers slain in battle. I leave to-morrow, will be at a camp Some weeks before I sail. I telephoned you This morning twice, they said you would return By two-o'clock at least. I write instead. But I shall come to see you, if I can Sometime this afternoon, and if I don't, This letter then must answer. Peace be with you. To-day I'm very happy. Write to me, Or if you do not think it best, all right, I'll understand. Before I sail I'll send A message to you--for the time farewell."