Ellen paid off the youth she had bribed into collecting the letter. He was young enough and scruffy enough to look like he belonged wandering into the less savory parts of town. He asked twice the price they'd agreed on, of course, but it still wasn't a large sum and it brought her news. Her soft fingers closed around the parchment, rougher and of lower quality than what she was accustomed to. It brought a smile to her pink lips and a tear to her blue eyes as she turned from the youth and made her way back along the shady road she'd found him on.<br/><br/>It wasn't until later that day she finally opened the rough parchment and read the words written on it. Her blue eyes poured over the words more than once before she finally sat to pen a response.<br/><br/><em>Louis,<br/><br/>I am glad you wrote. I suppose I should not be, but your response offers me some sense of comfort and of hope. It saddens me, of course, to think that you must burn the letters I write. Still I will write them between my visits that you might find some pleasantries in your darker days.<br/><br/>I had a dream some nights ago. The child was in it. My family will surely disown me when they learn of my pregnancy, but I am not willing to sacrifice the babe for them or what society views as right... Still, on some level I wish this had not happened. On many levels if I am honest.<br/><br/>I am afraid.<br/><br/>As things are now I have some time to make myself close to another who could provide for me. With family such as mine you would think it a small task, but I was born out of wedlock and so I am a shame to my father. If he casts me out though, I'll do my best to have somewhere else to go. I would hate to leave you fretting over my well being or our child's.<br/><br/>You know in some ways it is a joy to think of. A wonder really. That a woman can carry life within her and bring it into the world. Such a miracle you would think should never be viewed as a sin or shame, but I do not fool myself; I still feel the blush on my cheeks for thinking anything positive of my circumstances now.<br/><br/>You were in the dream too, Louis. You often are. I am glad to think my scent can be found in your room, though sad you cannot keep the bracelet. It would not be recognized. I am more clever than that.<br/><br/>I will have to try and find a gift you can keep some day. Perhaps something that has never truly belonged to me so that there is no risk in the matter.<br/><br/>Dream of me, Louis, and I will dream of you. Perhaps in our dreams we can share a more lasting happiness.<br/><br/>E</em><br/><br/>She didn't sign her name this time, having grown more fearful of being discovered. The letter E would offer no hint to who she was, but the stationary might. For that reason she let the seal go unmarked and did not give the envelope any more scent than what would be present from the ink she had mixed with moon flower extract. Secrets put a heavy weight on the heart, and this one more than any other she'd ever known. Ellen hid Louis' letter in a plain wooden box beneath her bed and fell asleep with her lover on her mind. The next day she sent her newest letter to him by the same boy who'd come to collect his.