Valentine paused, pen over paper. Today was the eve of his execution.

What would be the last letter he would write, the last statement of his life? Looking for inspiration, he thought back to the past few days. There was nothing exemplary to define it, nothing especially out of the ordinary. Wait. There was the jailer's daughter, whose sight he had restored by the grace of God. He sighed. At least God had willed him to do a few good works in his life. The rest of it was sadly sinful. Valentine gazed back at the piece of parchment below his pen and tapped his fingers on the rough wooden table in his prison cell. What would he write? And to whom would he address his letter? The jailer's daughter. The phrase had a ring to it, he thought, and smiled. He touched pen to paper.

To the estimable Jailer's Daughter, on the eve of my return to God. Miriam I am glad to have restored your sight. By it may you see the goodness of God in the world the beauty of the delicate wildflowers, the clearness of the cool waters. Once upon a time I may have shown you these wonders, but now I am sentenced and await my death. Strangely, I am not sorrowful to meet Death, but I am joyful at the thought of arriving in the beautiful dwelling place of Our Lord, if He deems His servant worthy. I have trust in Him, and I shall pray for you and all the others I have met in my life upon Earth when I reach Heaven. To have restored your sight on the eve of my death it seems strangely ironic now that I think on it. While you enjoy earthly beauty for the first time, I shall enjoy the passing beauty of the sight of God. While you dance and sing for your suitors here, I shall dance and sing for the joy of seeing God. Do not misunderstand me, I know the beauty of this earth and I am not underestimating it. The simple delight the sight of Nature gives me often overwhelms my soul. But this is a broken earth, and God wills us to have perfect happiness. As you no doubt have learned from your Catechism, our true home is in Heaven. And as it seems fit that I as the older one should give advice, I shall now carry out my duties. Firstly and most importantly, trust in the grace of God. He will provide for all your needs. Second Be kind to all you meet. You shall need their help one day, and they will remember your kindness and return it. Thirdly Take care of your father. He has been so good to me and the other poor prisoners here, and I would not see his courteousness go unreciprocated. With the advice over now, I have a request. I would wish you to pray for my soul tomorrow, and plead for you to do that.

Valentine paused. As he thought of his death and what it would mean to leave the earth that had been both so gentle and harsh toward him, a single tear dropped from his eye and

splattered onto the bottom right corner of the parchment. Quickly he wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving no trace of the single tear of sadness he would shed for departing from the world.

Miriam, I beg you to follow this advice I have given you and to fulfill my request. I thank you in advance for your prayers and wish you a glad farewell.

Slowly, Valentine dipped his quill in the ink he had been provided by the gracious jailer and signed his name with a flourish, as he was apt to do. From your Valentine.