Leaving

How I have mustered up the courage to do this, I shall never know. I hear the words of Reverend Argyle thundering in my ear, I keep my Bible by me, but still I feel damned to eternity. My mother and father have supported me, in a grim-faced and sorrowful way, but they do not know Albert . . . yet. They were shocked beyond belief at my "conduct," but shall never know that the child was not Ludlow's, but Albert's. How could my life have come to this pass? I left Bridie at our house - mine and Ludlow's - so that when he returns there will be at least someone there. Albert's studio and apartments are very strange, filled with books in every language, it seems, and camera equipment, paints and supplies of all kinds, and the doorbells rings incessantly with callers looking for his return. A Colonel of the Union Army came and sat with me gravely for an half an hour, with his great calvary hat on his knee, sipping tea like a maiden newly "out." He insisted on seeing (and calling me), "Mrs Bierstadt," but I was grateful to him for bringing me news of Albert's safety and imminent arrival. His eyes were the deepest wells I have e'er looked on, I shudder to think what sights they have seen, and am disturbed yet proud that such a man would esteem my future husband, Albert, so.