cannot know _all_ that we have lost; but God knows, and it has pleased
Him to take away the blessing that He gave. And all _must_ be right
since He doeth all! Indeed we did not foresee this great grief! If we
had we could not have felt it less; but I should not then have been
denied the consolation of being with her at the last.

It is idle to speak now of such thoughts, and circumstances have
unquestionably been rightly and mercifully ordered. We are all well
and composed--poor papa supporting us by his own surpassing fortitude.
It is an inexpressible comfort to me to witness his calmness.

I cannot say that we shall not be glad to see you, but the weather is
dreary and the distance long: and if you were to come, we might not be
able to meet you and to speak to you with calmness. In that case you
would receive a melancholy impression which I should like to spare
you. Perhaps it would be better for you and less selfish in us, if
we were to defer this meeting a little while longer--but do what you
prefer doing! I can never forget the regard and esteem entertained for
you by one whose tenderness and watchfulness I have felt every day
and hour since she gave me that life which her loss embitters--whose
memory is more precious to me than any earthly blessing left behind; I
have written what is ungrateful, and what I ought not to have written,
and what I ought not to feel, and do not always feel, but I did not
just then remember that I had so much left to love.


_To Mrs. Boyd_
Hope End: Saturday morning, [1828-1832].

My dear Mrs. Boyd,--You were quite wrong in supposing that papa was