Love Letters Page #10

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Yes.

I can help you

to find Victoria Morland.

Victoria Morland was my ward.

A foundling.

I adopted her.

I was all alone.

I'd worked very hard all my life.

I thought I loved my farm.

I had nothing else to love.

I've never had the time.

She was a beautiful child.

But when I saw her,

I knew what I had missed.

She made up

for all the empty years before.

You loved her very much.

Yes...

I want you to know it.

I want you to remember that.

I loved her very much.

What was she like?

Young and restless.

She'd never been hurt.

I swore she never would.

I guarded her as I would

guard my own life.

I wanted her to have

all the happiness I'd missed.

But that was wrong.

You can't find happiness

for another person.

You finish

by destroying the one you love.

I tried to protect her.

But I couldn't save her from myself.

Or from Roger Morland.

Roger Morland?

You see, in a way, Roger Morland

and I were guilty of the same crime.

He tried to get happiness

by stealing another man's soul.

But you can't do that.

It never works.

Roger Morland wrote letters.

Yes. And Victoria thought she loved him.

I didn't want her to marry him.

But I couldn't stop her.

They eloped.

But he wasn't like his letters.

No. Very soon, she discovered that.

I knew she was unhappy.

I couldn't help her.

At night, I could hear her.

Her room was...

...upstairs, next to mine.

I could hear her crying.

And then she'd sit for hours...

...In the garden.

Without moving. And saying nothing.

I couldn't stand to see it.

I never questioned her.

And then one night,

they were alone together.

Roger was quarreling...

...In this room.

- There was a lamp.

- On the table.

I could see Victoria's face.

She was very pale.

I was...

...over here in the kitchen.

It's getting cold here, Mrs. Quinton.

Don't you hear me?

Come over here please.

Dodd will light the fire.

No. No, I will light it myself.

Now I remember.

I wore a white dress.

I was sitting in that chair,

reading my letters.

Roger was on the bench, drinking.

Of course, I'm drinking.

Why shouldn't I?

- I'll drink if I want to.

- Roger!

Why do you keep reading those letters?

Because I love you, Roger.

I don't want to stop loving you.

I want to think of you as you were

when you wrote to me.

What am I now?

- I don't know.

- Answer me! What am I now?

You're a stranger to me.

Oh, leave me alone.

And stop staring at me

like a judge passing a sentence!

Why are you so angry?

I snatch a few days leave. And all you

want me to do is around and talk.

I want to go out and get drunk.

Dance and have a good time.

What if I did escape

to a pub last night.

And your fool aunt caught me

smiling at a girl.

Aunt Beatrice didn't tell me.

Well, I'm telling you.

And you're gonna like me as I am.

Roger.

You wrote that you wanted

a different kind of happiness.

Can you forget those blasted letters?

Oh, please, no!

These letters are you!

I never wrote them!

Do you hear me? I never wrote them!

Another man wrote them

just to amuse himself!

And you meant nothing to him, just

wish those letters mean nothing to me.

I'm sick of competing with a ghost.

I gonna solve this!

No! No, Roger, no! I love them!

Roger! Don't! Please, Roger!

Roger, don't burn my letters!

Aghhh!

My letters! My letters!

My letters!

My letters!

My letters! My letters! My letters!

And now you know, Victoria.

You realize I shouldn't speak?

I couldn't tell them the truth in time.

And when I regained my voice,

it was too late.

I couldn't tell you.

You didn't know me.

I had to keep silent

to protect your sanity.

But it made it worse for you.

A lie never works...

no matter what our motives.

I can't even ask you to forgive me.

Oh, Aunt Beatrice. It was my fault.

It wasn't your fault.

It was because I...

loved a man that didn't exist.

Who was he?

Who wrote those letters?

We'll never know.

I hope you never find him.

He is the man we should hate.

Hate?

Victoria.

Yes?

Alan?

- You heard?

- Everything.

You wanted to find

Victoria Morland for me.

For you, Alan. For you.

Victoria.

Nobody can build happiness on a lie.

Beatrice learned that.

And Roger Morland and I.

Tell me. If you found the man that wrote

those letters,

would you hate him?

I don't know.

"I think of you, my dearest,

as the distant promise of beauty

untouched by the world. "

Alan!

You think you'll forgive me?

It was terrible waiting for you.

But finding you

was such a great miracle.

It makes anything I suffered

seems only a small payment in return.

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