If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless¹, how foolish I have sometimes been.

But, oh Sarah!

If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you in the brightest days and in the darkest nights. Always. Always.

And when the soft breeze² fans your cheeks, it shall be my breath; and as the cool air fans your throbbing³ temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead: Think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.