"God bless you, darling. I believe He will, for the infinite goodness of your life. I thank Him daily that He has given it to me to bless you a little. If I had seen you to say farewell, my beloved, I should not have kissed you many times, as has been our wont. That is for hours of joy. I should have kissed you three times--only three times--on your beautiful, strong, gentle lips, and each kiss would have been a separate sacrament, with a bond of its own. I send them to you here, love, and this is what they mean! "Three Kisses of Farewell. "Three, only three my darling, Separate, solemn, slow; Not like the swift and joyous ones We used to know When we kissed because we loved each other Simply to taste love's sweet, And lavished our kisses as the summer Lavishes heat,-- But as they kiss whose hearts are wrung, When hope and fear are spent, And nothing is left to give, except A sacrament! "First of the three, my darling, Is sacred unto pain; We have hurt each other often; We shall again, When we pine because we miss each other, And do not understand How the written words are so much colder Than eye and hand. I kiss thee, dear, for all such pain Which we may give or take; Buried, forgiven, before it comes For our love's sake! "The second kiss, my darling, Is full of joy's sweet thrill; We have blessed each other always; We always will. We shall reach until we feel each other, Past all of time and space; We shall listen till we hear each other In every place; The earth is full of messengers, Which love sends to and fro; I kiss thee, darling, for all joy Which we shall know! "The last kiss, oh, my darling, My love--I cannot see Through my tears, as I remember What it may be. We may die and never see each other, Die with no time to give Any sign that our hearts are faithful To die, as live. Token of what they will not see Who see our parting breath, This one last kiss, my darling, seals The seal of death!" It was on my sixteenth birthday that I copied these letters and poems of Esther Wynn's. I kept them, with a few other very precious things, in a curious little inlaid box, which came from Venice, and was so old that in many places its sides were worm-eaten. It was one of my choicest treasures, and I was never separated from it.