SIBTHORPE VICARAGE, WELLS,
Jan. 7, 1905.
DEAR HERBERT,--Four nights ago I dreamed a strange dream. I was in a
big, well-furnished, airy room, with people moving about in it; I knew
none of them, but we were on friendly terms, and talked and laughed
together. Quite suddenly I was struck somewhere in the chest by some
rough, large missile, fired, I thought, from a gun, though I heard no
explosion; it pierced my ribs, and buried itself, I felt, in some vital
part. I stumbled to a couch and fell upon it; some one came to raise
me, and I was aware that other persons ran hither and thither seeking,
I thought, for medical aid and remedies. I knew within myself that my
last hour had come; I was not in pain, but life and strength ebbed from
me by swift degrees. I felt an intolerable sense of indignity in my
helplessness, and an intense desire to be left alone that I might die
in peace; death came fast upon me with clouded brain and fluttering
breath. . . .
SIBTHORPE VICARAGE, WELLS,
Jan. 7, 1905.
DEAR NELLIE,--I have just opened your letter, and you will know how my
whole heart goes out to you. I cannot understand it, I cannot realise
it; and I would give anything to be able to say a word that should
bring you any comfort or help. God keep and sustain you, as I know He
CAN sustain in these dark hours. I cannot write more to-day; but I send
you the letter that I was writing, when your own letter came. It helps
me even now to think that my dear Herbert told me himself--for that, I
see, was the purpose of my dim dream--what was befalling him. And I am
as sure as I can be of anything that he is with us, with you, still.
Dear friend, if I could only be with you now; but you will know that my
thoughts and prayers are with you every moment.--Ever your affectionate,