In those six years I had never been away except on
visits at holiday time in the neighbourhood.
After the first six months or so I had taken Miss
Donny’s advice in reference to the propriety
of writing to Mr. Kenge to say that I was happy and
grateful, and with her approval I had written such
a letter. I had received a formal answer acknowledging
its receipt and saying, “We note the contents
thereof, which shall be duly communicated to our client.”
After that I sometimes heard Miss Donny and her sister
mention how regular my accounts were paid, and about
twice a year I ventured to write a similar letter.
I always received by return of post exactly the same
answer in the same round hand, with the signature
of Kenge and Carboy in another writing, which I supposed
to be Mr. Kenge’s.
It seems so curious to me to be obliged to write all
this about myself! As if this narrative were
the narrative of my life! But my little
body will soon fall into the background now.
Six quiet years (I find I am saying it for the second
time) I had passed at Greenleaf, seeing in those around
me, as it might be in a looking-glass, every stage
of my own growth and change there, when, one November
morning, I received this letter. I omit the date.
Madam,
Jarndyce and Jarndyce
Our clt Mr. Jarndyce being abt to rece into his house,
under an Order of the Ct of Chy, a Ward of the Ct
in this cause, for whom he wishes to secure an elgble
compn, directs us to inform you that he will be glad
of your serces in the afsd capacity.
We have arrngd for your being forded, carriage free,
pr eight o’clock coach from Reading, on Monday
morning next, to White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, London,
where one of our clks will be in waiting to convey
you to our offe as above.
We are, Madam, Your obedt Servts,
Kenge and Carboy
Miss Esther Summerson
Oh, never, never, never shall I forget the emotion
this letter caused in the house! It was so tender
in them to care so much for me, it was so gracious
in that father who had not forgotten me to have made
my orphan way so smooth and easy and to have inclined
so many youthful natures towards me, that I could
hardly bear it. Not that I would have had them
less sorry—I am afraid not; but the pleasure
of it, and the pain of it, and the pride and joy of
it, and the humble regret of it were so blended that
my heart seemed almost breaking while it was full
of rapture.
The letter gave me only five days’ notice of
my removal. When every minute added to the proofs
of love and kindness that were given me in those five
days, and when at last the morning came and when they
took me through all the rooms that I might see them
for the last time, and when some cried, “Esther,
dear, say good-bye to me here at my bedside, where
you first spoke so kindly to me!” and when others
asked me only to write their names, “With Esther’s
love,” and when they all surrounded me with their
parting presents and clung to me weeping and cried,
“What shall we do when dear, dear Esther’s
gone!” and when I tried to tell them how forbearing
and how good they had all been to me and how I blessed
and thanked them every one, what a heart I had!
