right to persuade her to take, with her friend, a few more weeks'
change of scene,--though even that could not bring change of
thought. Late in June the friends returned homewards,--parting
rather suddenly (it would seem) from each other, when their paths
diverged.

"July, 1849.

"I intended to have written a line to you to-day, if I had not
received yours. We did indeed part suddenly; it made my heart
ache that we were severed without the time to exchange a word;
and yet perhaps it was better. I got here a little before eight
o'clock. All was clean and bright waiting for me. Papa and the
servants were well; and all received me with an affection which
should have consoled. The dogs seemed in strange ecstasy. I am
certain they regarded me as the harbinger of others. The dumb
creatures thought that as I was returned, those who had been so
long absent were not far behind.

"I left Papa soon, and went into the dining-room: I shut the
door--I tried to be glad that I was come home. I have always been
glad before--except once--even then I was cheered. But this time
joy was not to be the sensation. I felt that the house was all
silent--the rooms were all empty. I remembered where the three
were laid--in what narrow dark dwellings--never more to reappear
on earth. So the sense of desolation and bitterness took
possession of me. The agony that WAS to be undergone, and WAS NOT
to be avoided, came on. I underwent it, and passed a dreary
evening and night, and a mournful morrow; to-day I am better.