I have always hoped that some day I should see you again, and my dear home, and my dearest, dearest child.
I am sure you will forgive me the wrong I did, and my cruel behaviour.

I couldn't die happy if I didn't feel sure of that; but, dear father and mother, I know your loving hearts.
No words can tell how I've pined and longed for my little Jessie, my own little baby, all these years.

At first I thought I should have died for want of her, but I knew she was happy--that was my only comfort--and I could not have found clothes nor food for her.

I was going to write to you as soon as we were settled, but Harry lost that situation almost at once, and since then we have been on the tramp and never had a home.

It has been a cruel life, and I have often thanked God on my knees that my darling was spared it.