LONDON, August 31, 1914.
[DEAREST ONE:]
Not since the Herald Square days have I had such a blow
as when I drove up to 10 Clarges, and found you gone! It was
nobody's fault! You were so right to go; and I
could not come. I am so distressed lest it was my cable saying I could
not get back that decided you to go before the fifth. But
Ashford says it was not. He tells me the cable came at
three in the morning and that you had arranged to be
called
at six-thirty in order to leave for Scotland. So, for sending
that cable I need not blame myself too much. I sent you so
many messages I do not know which got through. But I think it
must have been one saying I could not return in time to see
you before the fifth. Then, no trains were running. The
very next day the Germans started a troop train, and I
took
it. The reason I could not come by automobile was because I
had a falling out with the "mad dogs" and they would not give
me a pass. So Evans, with whom I was to motor to Holland, got
through Friday afternoon and sent the cable. As soon as I
reached Holland, I cabled I was coming and kept on
telegraphing every step of the journey, which lasted three
days.
I telegraphed last from Folkestone; even telling you what to
have for my supper. As you directed, Ashford opened the
cables, and when I drove up, he was at the door in tears. He
had made a light in your rooms and, of course, as I looked up
I thought you still were in them. When they told me I was a
day late, I cried, too. It was the bitterest disappointment I
ever knew. I had taken the very first train out of Brussels,
the one with the wounded, and for three days had been having
one hell of a time. But I kept thinking of seeing you, and
hearing your dear voice. So the trip did not matter. I was
only thinking of
seeing you, and thanking God I was shut
of
the dirty Germans. We had nothing to eat, and we slept on the
floor of the train, the Germans kept us locked in, and, all
through even Holland, we were under arrest. But nothing
mattered, because I was so happy at thought of meeting you.
As I said neither of us was at fault. You just
had to go,
and I could
not come. But, you can feel how I felt to
learn you were at sea.
I was so glad I could use your old rooms. I went to the
table where you used to write and was so glad I could at least
be as near to you as that. No other place in London could
have held me that night. Not Buckingham Palace. I found
little things you had left. I loved even the funny pictures
on the wall because we had talked of them together. It was
rotten, rotten luck. But only the Germans and their
hellish
war were to blame. I drove straight to the cable office, and
tried to wireless you, knowing you would feel glad to know I
was well, and safe and sound. But the cable people could not
send my message. You were then out of reach of wireless, on
the Irish coast. And for nine days there was no way to tell
you I had
come back as fast as trains and boats and the dirty Germans
would let me. Oh, my dear, dear one,
how I
love
you. If
only I could have seen you for just five minutes. As it was,
I thought for five days more we would be together. What I
shall do now, I don't know. I must go back with either the
French or the English until my contract expires, and then, I
can join you. Tomorrow I am trying to see Asquith and
Churchill to get with the army. And I will at once return
across the channel. But, do not worry! I will never again
let a German come within
one mile of me! After this,
between me and the Germans, there will be some hundreds of
thousands of English or French. So after this reaches you I
will soon be on my way
home. Don't worry. Get James back
and Amelia and everyone else who can make you comfortable, and
trust in the good Lord. I have your cross and St. Rita around
my neck, and in spite of what the Kaiser says, God is looking
after other people than Germans. Certainly he has taken good
care of me. And he will guard you, and our "blessed" one.
And in a little time, dear,
dear heart, I will be back,
and I will become a grocer. God love you and keep you, as he
does. And you will never know
how I love you! Good
night, dearest, sweetheart and wife! I am writing this at your
table, and, thanking God you are going to the farm, and to
peace and happiness.
I send you all the love in all the
world.
RICHARD.
