heart feel breaking, yet our prayers will be heard and accepted on high.  It is not with you, my poor girl, the weak indulgence of sorrow that ever prostrates you on a couch of suffering, it is the struggle of resignation and concealment that is too fierce for the delicacy of your constitution; and do you not think that strife is marked by Him, who, as a father, pitieth His children?  Painful as it is to you, my dear Mary, your sufferings may be in a degree a source of mercy to your mother.  Agonizing as it is to the heart of a parent, to watch the fevered couch of a beloved child, yet had she not that anxiety, the conduct of your father and brother might present still deeper wretchedness.  For your sake, she dismisses the harrowing thoughts that would otherwise be her own; for your sake, she rallies her own energies, which else might desert her; and when you are restored to her, when, in those intervals of peace which are sometimes your own, she sees you in health, and feels your constant devotion, believe me, there is a well of comfort, of blessed comfort in her fond heart, of which nothing can deprive her.  For her sake, then, my dearest Mary, try to conquer this reluctance to leave England.  I do not reproach your grief, for I know that it is natural.  But endeavour to think that this residence for a few years on the Continent, may restore your mother to a degree of peace, which, in England, at present she cannot know; and will not this thought, my love, reconcile you to a short separation from the land of your birth, and the friends you so dearly love?  We shall all think of and love our Mary, however widely parted.  We will write very frequently, and every information I can obtain of your brother shall be faithfully recorded.  Mr. Hamilton has ever felt for your mother as a brother would, and for her sake, her misguided son will be ever an object of his dearest care.  Do not fear for him, and endeavour to soothe your mother’s anxiety on that head also.  Herbert has written to you, I enclose his letter; and he entreats most earnestly that you will not only permit him to continue to write, but answer him, during your residence abroad.  He has been deeply grieved at the intelligence we have reported of you, and I hope and think, if your mother do not disapprove of your correspondence, that the humble yet fervent faith which breathes in the religion of my son may long prove a source of consolation as well as interest to you, who, from your childhood, could sympathise with all his exalted feelings.  Poor Emmeline has shed many bitter tears over your letter; she cannot bear to think of your leaving England, but yet agrees with me in believing it will be a beneficial change for both yourself and Mrs. Greville, but her letter shall speak her own feelings.  I will not write more now, but will very soon again.  Do not exert yourself too much to answer either Emmeline or myself; we will not wait for regular replies.  I have written to your mother also, therefore this brief epistle is entirely for yourself, as you wished it.  Mr. Hamilton will meet you at Dover, which will afford me much satisfaction, as I shall know more than I could ever learn by a letter, and he will, I trust, be enabled to set your mother’s heart at rest on some points which must be now subjects of anxiety.  God bless you, my Mary, and restore you speedily to health and peace.