 | Randolph |  |
SARAH TO JULIET.
Juliet, my sweet Juliet!—would that I were near
thee!—I might then prove to thee, how deeply I have
been affected by thy counsel. I wanted but that, it would
seem, to know thee, perfectly, as thou art—the most patient
of human beings, the most benignant, the most forgiving.
If my heart were not the better for thy chiding,
reality? I do believe that I am, dear; but I cannot declare
it yet, until I have had my humility more fully
tried. They tell me that there is—some prospect of
thy—restoration, I was about to say;—but no, it would
be cruel—I ought not to say it. Do not believe me;—
disregard it—I pray thee: continue as prepared as thou
hast been; as resigned, as lowly, and if aught can help
thee, that tranquillity and submissiveness will. I meant
to have written a long letter, but I cannot.
My spirits are heavy; and there is a strange perturbation
at my heart, that I cannot attribute to aught but
my distress for thee, dear, patient, Juliet—heaven be
with thee!—forever and ever; and, if we must part, all my
prayer is, that thou mayest pass away, as thou hast lived,
in purity and quiet; and, that I may follow thee, as purely,
and as quietly.—Farewell!—but with all my effort,
all my apprehension, I cannot bring myself to realize
thy danger.—What!—but yesterday, my companion at
the school, so beautiful, so full of health, and to day—
O, no, it cannot be.—Thou art not so very frail.—Ah—
what have I done!—Juliet, dear Juliet, do not regard
me! Do not let me delude thee. Expect death—expect
nothing else—farewell—.
My father has just sent up to inform me, that the gentleman
and family, whom he was expecting to meet at
Boston, have actually arrived within a few miles of this
city; and that, instead of going to Boston, now, they will
join their forces, and proceed, directly, to Lake George,
or to Niagara, while the water is at the fullest, with the
melting snow, and spring rains. I shall continue to
write thee, at every stage, and send, as I can. In the
mean time, my friend, my sister, my beloved Juliet, let
nothing disturb thee;—think not of the past—and O, think
not of—nay, I must not name him—and write me as
thou canst.
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