I suppose that he lives exclusively at Loughlinter. From
time to time I am implored by him to return to my duty
beneath his roof. He grounds his demand on no affection of
his own, on no presumption that any affection can remain
with me. He says no word of happiness. He offers no
comfort. He does not attempt to persuade with promises of
future care. He makes his claim simply on Holy Writ, and
on the feeling of duty which thence ought to weigh upon
me. He has never even told me that he loves me; but he is
persistent in declaring that those whom God has joined
together nothing human should separate. Since I have been
here I have written to him once,--one sad, long, weary
letter. Since that I am constrained to leave his letters
unanswered.

And now, my friend, could you not do for me a great
kindness? For a while, till the inquiry be made at
Tankerville, your time must be vacant. Cannot you come and
see us? I have told Papa that I should ask you, and he
would be delighted. I cannot explain to you what it would
be to me to be able to talk again to one who knows all the
errors and all the efforts of my past life as you do.
Dresden is very cold in the winter. I do not know whether
you would mind that. We are very particular about the
rooms, but my father bears the temperature wonderfully
well, though he complains. In March we move down south
for a couple of months. Do come if you can.

Most sincerely yours,