quietly in the suburbs of London, still under the inspection of the
resolute female missionary who first worked his reform.

Whether he will ever become the high-minded, high-principled country
gentleman, that my father has always desired to see him, it is useless
for me to guess. On the domains which he is to inherit, I shall never
perhaps set foot again: in the halls where he will one day preside as
master, I shall never more be sheltered. Let me now quit the subject
of my elder brother, and turn to a theme which is nearer to my heart;
dear to me as the last remembrance left that I can love; precious
beyond all treasures in my solitude and my exile from home.

My sister!--well may I linger over your beloved name in such a record
as this. A little farther on, and the darkness of crime and grief will
encompass me; here, my recollections of you kindle like a pure light
before my eyes--doubly pure by contrast with what lies beyond. May
your kind eyes, love, be the first that fall on these pages, when the
writer has parted from them for ever! May your tender hand be the
first that touches these leaves, when mine is cold! Backward in my
narrative, Clara, wherever I have but casually mentioned my sister,
the pen has trembled and stood still. At this place, where all my
remembrances of you throng upon me unrestrained, the tears gather fast
and thick beyond control; and for the first time since I began my
task, my courage and my calmness fail me.

It is useless to persevere longer. My hand trembles; my eyes grow
dimmer and dimmer. I must close my labours for the day, and go forth
to gather strength and resolution for to-morrow on the hill-tops that
overlook the sea.