“And you, my dearest of friends, you will send me also a little message, that I can treasure as a remembrance of bygone days.  And you must tell me also whether what has occurred has deterred you from going farther, or whether you still remain hoping for better things in the world, and resolved to do what you can to bring them about.  That would be a great consolation to me, to know that your life still had a noble object.  Then the world would not be quite blank, either for you or for me; you with your work, I with this poor, kind mother of mine, who needs all the affection I can give her.  Then I hope to hear of you from time to time; but my mother and myself do not return to England.

“And now what am I to say, being so far away from you, that will sound pleasant to you, and that you will remember after with kindness?  I look back now over the time since I have known you, and it appears a beautiful dream—­anxious sometimes, and troubled, but always with a golden future before it that almost bewildered the eyes.  And what am I to say of your goodness, so unvarying and constant; and your thoughtfulness; and your great unselfishness and outspokenness?  When was there the least misunderstanding between us?  I could read your heart like my own.  Only once, you remember, was there a chance of a shadow coming between us—­through my own folly; and yet perhaps it was only natural for a girl, fancying that everything was going to be smooth and happy in her life, to look back on what she had said in times of trouble, and to be afraid of having spoken with too little reserve.  But then you refused to have even the slightest lovers’ quarrel; you laughed away my folly.  Do you wonder if I was more than ever glad that I had given my life into your wise and generous guidance?  And it is not now, when I am speaking to you for the last time, that I can regret having let you know what my feelings were toward you.  Oh, my darling! you must not imagine, because these words that I am writing are cold and formal, that my heart beats any the less quickly when I think of you and the days we were together.  I said to you that I loved you; I say to you now that I love you with my whole heart, and I have no feeling of shame.  If you were here, I would look into your face and repeat it—­I think without a blush; I would kiss you; I would tell you that I honor you; that I had looked forward to giving you all the trust and affection and devotion of a wife.  That is because I have faith in you; my soul is open and clear to you; read, and if you can find there anything but admiration for your nobleness of heart, and earnest hopes for your happiness, and gratitude to you for all your kindness, then, and not otherwise, shall I have cause for shame.

“Now I have to send you my last word of good-bye—­”

[She had borne up so far; but now she put the pen aside, and bent her head down on to her hands, and her frame was shaken with her sobbing.  When she resumed, she could scarcely see for the bitter tears that kept welling her eyes.]