A STRAY LOVE-LETTER.

Auckland Star, Volume IV, Issue 989, 20 March 1873, Page 3

A STRAY LOVE-LETTER.

The carelessness displayed by lovers in relation to their tender correspondence is something astonishing, and can only be accounted for by that absent mindedness which is said to be characteristic of persons under the influence of the gentle passion. We publish below a letter picked up in Queen-street, which is evidently a copy of one sent to a lady whose favours have been ■withdrawn. The writer will probably recognise his glowing epistle, and he may, by calling at our office, obtain the original:—

"Thursday evening. "My own dear Girl,—lf I had to speak or write to others about you my tongue could run on for ever in your praise, but as I now desire to write, or speak as it were to you, I find all my ideas mixed into each other in chaotic confusion ; and this isnot altogether through having so much to say to you, or from a desire to shape my sentences prettily and make them acceptable. How much misery I have endured you will probably never realize, and the more I suffer the more I upbraid myself with being an idiot, a worse than idiot, for those poor creatures are not capable of discriminating evil from good, whereas I have been endowed with sufficient sense to enable me to distinguish you a3 one of the brightest of God's creatures, formed to love somebody with all the warmth it is possible to bestow on another; and when I might, I think, have had the coveted prize, by my own folly I have suffered it to be, not snatched from me, I hope, but withdrawn from me. Oh ! darling, the thousand things I think of that I might have done to prove my love for you—that I ought, in ju3tice to your worth, have done. If I have lost you, really lost you, and I cannot bring myself to believe so, I shall experience one long and lasting regret, rendered more unbearable when I think that there was not one act on your part, at any time that I had any right to complain of. I never knew your worth, dear girl, until I felt I was losing you, and even then, although I always loved you, God knows how dearly, my infirmity of temper would not prompt me to prove myself true. And now, dearest, let me atk myself a question, was it jealousy ? I should never be jealous of my wife.. Then why jealous of her I would some day make my wife ? Your very innocence served to rouse a passion which I had persuaded myself was foreign to my nature, and the slightest word, even about you, not against you, served sometimes to inflame my mind. Now absence has tamed nic down, and I feel aglow of warmth whenever your name is mentioned; and if it is something in your favor I feel ready to worship them who do you justice. But can I tell you I love you? Ought I? You do not despise me. I feel sure that there is still some part of your heart not entirely free from my image. How vain of me to suppose this ; perhaps I only thmk what I wish dearest. I cannot, cannot leave you • nay, I will not.,, , You are not lost to me for ever. I will give you a life's adoration, and worship you next to my God. Oh ! I felt as if my heart would break when the conventionalities of life, these dread«'propers compelled me to bid you a cold good night. Did it have a cold response from you ? 1 fancied, perhaps it was only fancy, that there was agony in the vibration of your pulse when we shook hands—a something that seem to ask, Oh ! why did you trifle with my affection, and cause me pain when we meet This thought flashed like lightning through my brain, and wrung thy heartstrings. Oh, darling, forgive me, I am indeed penitent. I feel this division of our love mentally afflicting. lam compelled to hear you spoken of with apparent indifference, and I sometimes fear that the re-action will be too much. Oh, how my head aches as I write these words through the frightful contraction of my brain, seeing that I am hoping against hope. My path is indeed desolate without you. Do not. leave me for mercy's sake. If there is one spark in your heart give me leave to fan it if I can. Will you, Nearest and best ? And now there is on«* question I want, to ask. I want to see you very much. 1 have not had an opportunity of speaking to you vet Will you endeavour to give me an Opportunity of seeing your for two^or three hours ? SoW-soon as possible.. Delays are dangerous, and I fear now I am in Auckland that the opportunity may be lost, and two hearts that were made for each other may be divided for ever." * * *