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Anonymous

"An Englishwoman's Love-Letters"


Calling at the lower farm, I missed him whom I used to nickname "Manger,"
because his dog-jaws always refused to smile on me. His old mistress gave
me a pathetic account of his last days. It was the muzzling order that
broke his poor old heart. He took it as an accusation on a point where,
though of a melancholy disposition, his reputation had been spotless. He
never lifted his head nor smiled again. And not all his mistress' love
could explain to him that he was not in fault. She wept as she told it me.
Good-by, dearest, and for this letter so full of such little worth call me
what names you like; and I will go to Jemima, Keziah, and Kerenhappuch for
the patience in which they must have taken after their father when he so
named them, I suppose for a discipline.
My Beloved, let my heart come where it wants to be. Twilight has been on
me to-day, I don't know why; and I have not written it off as I hoped to
do.--All yours and nothing left.


LETTER XLIX.

Dearest: I suppose your mother's continued absence, and her unexplanation
of her further stay, must be taken for unyielding disapproval, and tells
us what to expect of February. It is not a cordial form of "truce": but
since it lets me see just twice as much of you as I should otherwise, I
will not complain so long as it does not make you unhappy. You write to
her often and kindly, do you not?
Well, if this last letter of hers frees you sufficiently, it is quite
settled at this end that you are to be with us for Christmas:--read into
that the warmest corners of a heart already fully occupied.


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