LETTER XLV.
MYRA to Mrs. HOLMES.
In what words shall I describe to
you, my dear friend, the misery that has suddenly
overwhelmed us! It is impossible to
communicate the distressed situation of Har
riot---Expression is inadequate to give you
an idea of our meeting---I called her my
friend---my sister---She always loved me---
but joy and affection gave way to passion---
Her speech refused its office---
Sorrow in all its pomp was there,
Mute and magnificent without a tear.
SHE had gained a sister---she had lost a
lover---a burst of joy would suddenly break
from her, but it was of short duration---and
was succeeded by pangs of exquisite distress
---nature was unable to support it, and she
sainted under the weight of the severe conflict.
Her constitution at best is seeble; her
present illness is therefore attended with
more danger---Unless a speedy alteration
should take place, the physician has little
hopes of her recovery.—Heaven preserve
us!
Farewel!
