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"DEAR MR. SUTHERLAND, -- Your letter to my father has been sent to me
by my mother, for what you will feel to be the sad reason, that he
is no more in this world. But I cannot say it is so very sad to me
to think that he is gone home, where my mother and I will soon join
him. True love can wait well. Nor indeed, dear Mr. Sutherland,
must you be too much troubled that your letter never reached him.
My father was like God in this, that he always forgave anything the
moment there was anything to forgive; for when else could there be
such a good time? -- although, of course, the person forgiven could
not know it till he asked for forgiveness. But, dear Mr.
Sutherland, if you could see me smiling as I write, and could yet
see how earnest my heart is in writing it, I would venture to say
that, in virtue of my knowing my father as I do -- for I am sure I
know his very soul, as near as human love could know it -- I forgive
you, in his name, for anything and everything with which you
reproach yourself in regard to him. Ah! how much I owe you! And
how much he used to say he owed you! We shall thank you one day,
when we all meet.
"I am, dear Mr. Sutherland,
"Your grateful scholar,
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