Letter from Sister Louise, who is, it seems to me, drawing near to her Eternity. She tells me that labor has worn out her strength, that she cannot write any more, and sends me two very beautiful little pictures, which have a sacredness in my eyes as the gift of a dying person. Is Heaven so soon about to claim this sweet cloister-flower?
Kate, darling, you see that I cannot lose my favorite habit of confiding to you my thoughts. Oh! why are you not here, admiring Margaret, resplendent with youth, freshness, and joy? She is going to write to you, to ask news of Zoë, etc.
God keep you, my beloved sister!
July 29, 1868.
Have I said anything to you about Margaret’s park? of her conservatory, worthy of Italy, and where Marcella would like always to remain? of her birds? of all the fairy-land which she knows so well how to make us enjoy? Lucy’s mourning prevents our hosts from issuing many invitations; but how much I prefer our home-party as it is!
Long excursions among the mountains. Many projects for next year. Margaret desires that a friendly compact should be agreed to, which would be a continual interchange of visits: Brittany, England, Ireland, Orleans, and Hyères would by turns receive our Penates. O dreams of youth, O balmy days, which never will return! stay with us long.
Yesterday Lord B——, who had
heard of my arrival, hastened to come and see us. “What! so soon grown up, Miss Georgina?” he exclaimed, to the exceeding amusement of Alix.
To-morrow we start for Ireland, for my own home, where everything is in readiness for our arrival. What a sorrowful happiness! Gertrude lets me look through her manuscript books; the following lines which I found there you will read with as much admiration as myself:
“This morning Hélène asked to speak with me, and this day and hour I shall ever remember. The beloved child of my soul, of my thoughts, and of my heart desires to become a daughter of St. Teresa; she wishes to go, and speedily. I shall, then, see her no more but at long intervals and behind a threatening grating; another mother will give her her love, other hands than mine will guide her towards God. But she will be thine, O Lord! and, while yet young, I have felt too much the sorrows of this world not to be happy at seeing thee give to her the better part. Her avowals, her innocent confidence, her purity of soul and intention—all these appeared to me so peaceful that I also experienced an ineffable sense of inward peace. Go, then, since God calls thee, sweet angel of this home, in which thou wilt leave so great a void—go; father and mother will not refuse thee to God, and our prayers and blessings will follow thee!”