That she was cruel to me; she was born Mid your contentment; if you see her soon O would it not (I dare not think it so) I could so comfort you. I overlook One portion of your letter. What, you say, A thing to honour; if not, let it be; If they have no name, God will give them one. 74 LETTER X. LEONARD TO STEPHEN. San Remo Dec. 31, 18-2. I WRITE in great perplexity; my wife Has partly lost her reason; you are one Who knows our circumstances, also one No effort, no expense, to send me back An Englishman, and not by any means An ordinary man; but you will see What makes it quite impossible to ask Turns in this same direction. In three months My wife will be a mother; this it is Do otherwise; but with this letter came As might be looked for in a mother who Gives me full credit, more than I deserve, It may be, for good motives;) this sweet friend The emblem of salvation; she had taken That we have not been favoured with the thoughts Of the fourteenth in order ;-well, this friend Or rather, not my wife, for I was damned, Into perdition for our primal fault ; But held out little hope of anything Except perdition, did we persevere To mock 'God's ordinance,' and hide our sin That dolts like these existed? If they read, Without Church spectacles, the book they swear by, I showed my wife these letters; they were not Of course the doctrine they were meant to teach The world may think it, I have cause to know That so far from a loss of self-respect, Or purity, resulting to my wife Through her departure from accustomed forms, Or half so pure, not even Eucharis Before she was my wife.) The doctrine, then, She read it through, and then she turned to me |