 | Randolph |  |
FRANK TO JOHN.
Dear John.—I found our dear cousin far gone, indeed.
She was so altered that I scarcely knew her; and, when
I first took her hand, she did not seem to know me; and
it trembled, as if there were something hateful in the
touch of mine; but, after looking me steadily in the face,
—her dark hazel eyes, burning to their centre, with
some deep, strange thought, for two or three minutes,—she
heaved a deep sigh, smiled faintly, shut her
lips—and the tears instantly filled her eyes. She pressed
my hand—and carried it to her temples. The beating
was excessive and fiery. I spoke to her—I endeavoured
to appear undisturbed; but she saw my agitation;
and I am sure that she ran over, in her thought, all that
had happened to both, since we parted. She attempted,
two or three times, to speak; but her heart was too full, and
she only put her beautiful hand upon her bosom, and
temples, and shook her head. After that, she slept for
several hours; and her nurse told me, with more composure,
than at any time since her illness. She had been
in danger, I was assured, by the worthy, but very eccentrick
old gentleman, whom I apprehend to be a
correspondent of Juliet's; for he spoke of “Madame Gracie.”
You may be very sure that I smiled, at the whimsical
association in my mind. But the danger is all
passed now; and, at our last conversation, there was
discoverable a deep and beautiful inwardness of tranquillity,
that augurs well. We have spoken of Juliet; and
she desires to be remembered to her, with affection and
gratitude; “gratitude,” she says, with emphasis, “Juliet
will know what I mean.” Tell her that her advice was
timely. I was in more danger than I dreamt of. But her
letter and this shock have opened my eyes; and I do
trust, if it be permitted to me, to go abroad once more,
that I shall have the strength to prove how I have been
bettered and benefited by both. “A fall makes one step
more carefully.” she added; “and every aberration from
the true path, is remembered, in the sick chamber, as an
at once—something to turn pale at.” Farewell. Be
particular about her, and believe me, as I am.
| Randolph | |