He had these few weeks at home, and then must away once more to chances of battle and death.

He did not say this till he had exhausted every other entreaty; but at last, gathering her close to him with his one loving arm,--"how fortunate," he had before said, "that it is the left arm, because if it were the other I could not hold you so near my heart!"-- so holding her, he glanced down at the empty sleeve, and whispered, "My darling! who knows?
I have been wounded so often, and am now only a piece of a fellow to come to you.

It may be something more next time, and then I shall never call you wife.

It would make no difference hereafter, I know: we belong to each other for time and eternity.

But then I should like to feel that we were something more to one another than even betrothed lovers, before the end comes, if come it does, untimely.