|
|
|
Prev
| Next
| Contents
"MY DEAR FRIEND, -- If I did not think you would forgive me, I should
feel, now that I have once allowed my mind to rest upon my conduct
to you, as if I could never hold up my head again. After much
occupation of thought and feeling with other things, a season of
silence has come, and my sins look me in the face. First of them
all is my neglect of you, to whom I owe more than to any man else,
except, perhaps, my father. Forgive me, for forgiveness' sake. You
know it takes a long time for a child to know its mother. It takes
everything as a matter of course, till suddenly one day it lifts up
its eyes, and knows that a face is looking at it. I have been like
the child towards you; but I am beginning to feel what you have been
to me. I want to be good. I am very lonely now in great noisy
London. Write to me, if you please, and comfort me. I wish I were
as good as you. Then everything would go right with me. Do not
suppose that I am in great trouble of any kind. As yet I am very
comfortable, as far as external circumstances go. But I have a kind
of aching inside me. Something is not right, and I want your help.
You will know what I mean. What am I to do? Please to remember me
in the kindest, most grateful manner to Mrs. Elginbrod and Margaret.
It is more than I deserve, but I hope they have not forgotten me as
I have seemed to forget them.
"I am, my dear Mr. Elginbrod,
"Your old friend,
Prev
| Next
| Contents
|
|
|