MY PRECIOUS MOTHER:

This is the first time I have sat up in bed, and I am trying to write a
little note to you on a pillow instead of a desk. My hand shakes so that
I'm afraid you won't be able to read it, but I felt that I wanted to
send you a few words of my very own, not dictated to the nurse or to
Mrs. Payson. I can't tell you how perfectly lovely Mrs. Payson has been
to me. She was here all that dreadful night, and I believe I should have
died without her. The doctor said I had such a hard time because I'd let
myself get run down and stayed indoors too much. But I'm getting all
right now--and the rest is over and doesn't matter. As soon as I am
strong again I shall be perfectly happy.

Oh, mother, aren't you delighted that the baby is a girl, after all? It
was the first question I asked when I came back to consciousness the
next morning, and when they told me it was, I said, "Her name is Lucy
Pendleton," and that was all. I was so weak they wouldn't let me open my
lips again, and Oliver was kept out of the room for almost ten days
because I would talk to him. Poor fellow, it almost killed him. He is as
white as a sheet still, and looks as if he had been through tortures. It
must have been terrible for him, because I was really very, very ill at
one time.

But it is all over now, and the baby is the sweetest thing you ever
imagined. I believe she knows me already, and Mrs. Payson says she is
exactly like me, though I can see the strongest resemblance to Oliver,
even if she has blue eyes and he hasn't. Wasn't it lovely how everything
came just as we wanted it to--a girl, born on father's birthday, with
blue eyes, and named Lucy? But, mother, darling, the most wonderful
thing of all was that you seemed to be with me all through it. The whole
time I was unconscious I thought you were here, and the nurse tells me
that I was calling "Mother! Mother!" all that night. Nothing ever made
me feel as close to you as having a baby of my own. I never knew before
what you were to me, and how dearly, dearly I love you.

The nurse is taking the pencil away from me.

Your loving
VIRGINIA.

Isn't it funny that Oliver won't take any interest in the baby at all?
He says she caused more trouble than she is worth. Was father like that?

* * * * *

MATOACA CITY. April 3, 1886.
DEAREST MOTHER:

My last letter was written an age ago, but I have been so busy since
Marthy left t