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Show Page 223 and the bucket was nigh empty. But my heart was full of sorrow and despair. The next morning, when the other members of the household went to bid farewell to the men, I remained at home. As the orders to march thundered over the fort and the tramp of feet carried John down to the boats and away from me, I hid my face in my arms and wept. ********************* November, 1622 What a botch I have made of things! Indeed, I am a dunderdead, as poor, dead Twig said I was. Why had I not the heart to tell John I love him before he sailed downriver? I tell myself I am a silly chit to think that my loving him would seal his fate. When at last he does return, I shall fling myself into his arms and confess all. But if he does, indeed, return, were not my feelings proved true and I proved wise in my behavior? So perhaps I should always keep my feelings hidden deep within that John might live. Oh, I know not what to do! ******************** |