“I feel that way now, when so many leagues separate us, but I presume that should I be blessed with one smile from you, I should want to live always. I think one slight token of recognition, one little sign of memory of the old days, spreading over your features would be food and drink to me ever. But such joys do not spread themselves on my table of anticipation. I know not love. I only know what it is to love. I have hesitated about writing you as I shall before I close. “I have wondered if by holding open the bleeding wounds of my breast, the breast you have made love to, the breast that gave life and strength to your child, while the thrills of motherhood overcame me even to tears of joy, would pain you. I have summed it all up and have concluded that nothing will pain you, so will not hesitate to show to you the every heart-beat as it forces the blood through the veins which your heartless acts have drained. Forgive me, darling, if I inflict any injury upon your feelings by any reference to the past, but then you know your short note said, ‘Do not conceal a single thought nor withhold one particle of the emotion with which your voluptuous body abounds.’ I will pour out the soul that you have penned up. I will account to you for the acts which you refer to as unladylike. I will bring to your mind new fancies, born of reflection. I will accuse you of no wrong, for you in your exalted goodness and influential position must know right from wrong. If I am wrong, God is just. If He allowed you to misjudge me, I beseech Him to prevent you from branding another woman with the same iron. While I have been writing one day has died and another been born. With the passing of the hour I have passed another milepost. I am now one year older. My birthday and my baby are the only things I can claim without dispute as to title. “I have been to his bed, the baby’s bed, and shall I tell you—his father—how sweetly he sleeps, how my burning kisses did not startle him? You will know whether or not these lips of mine will arouse a man to his greatest efforts. You, and you alone, have tasted the sweets that I longed to lavish upon you until satiety was a far away and unknown thing. “You said: ‘Write. I am interested in your welfare.’ “I believe you, for you fear me as the bleating lamb fears the ravenous wolf; but fear not, oh, god of mine; you are my child’s father, and for the gracious act of begetting me an image of thine own self I shall always be devoted to you.