May God spare you all future sorrow, and give you the peace which He alone can give!
P.S.—I finish these lines at my dear Louis’ bed. He thanks you so much for your dear, loving sympathy. Thank God, he is doing well. But the pain they have all gone through in their poor throats has been awful. The doctors and nurses—eight! for they have changed day and night, and had such constant attendance—have been all I could wish.
Your loving child,
Alice.
Darmstadt, December 1st.
* * * Every one shows great sympathy, I hear, everywhere. * * * All classes have shown a great attachment to us personally, and to the House, and amongst the common people—it goes home to them that our position does not separate us so very far from them, and that in death, danger, and sorrow the palace and the hut are visited alike.
So many deep and solemn lessons one learns in these times, and I believe all works together for good for those who believe in God. * * *
December 2d.
So many pangs and pains come, and must yet for years to come. Still gratitude for those left is so strong, and indeed resignation entire and complete to a higher will; and so we all feel together, and encourage each other. Life is not endless in this world, God be praised! There is much joy—but oh! so much trial and pain; and, as the number of those one loves increases in Heaven, it makes our passage easier—and home is there!
Ever your loving child,
Alice.
December 6th.