this first separation causes me more pain than I am willing to confess. I long so much to say to him: “Take me with you.” I feel it would be unreasonable. He is going to travel eighty leagues in a few days, and does not wish to expose me to this fatigue, though it seems to me that with him nothing could be difficult. What will you say, dear Kate, to your Georgina?—that you no longer recognize her great courage, and that inability to bear the least contrariety is not the mark of a Christian; that I ought rather to thank Providence for sending me the opportunity of gaining a little merit. Dear little preacher! the heart that loves does not reason, and René is my universe. But I promise you to accept this light trial.
Send your good angel to the traveller, darling Kate.
Evening.—I set out to-morrow with the dawn! René read in my eyes that I was fretting, and altered his itinerary; I am radiant, and looking forward to a thousand delights.
Love your Georgina. Let us pray together for our green Erin, so worthy of our love. I have always in my heart the hope of its resurrection.
March 6, 1867.
Shall I tell you about my journey, dearest Kate? We made a halt in Brittany, the land of true poets, where we are to pass the summer. As we walked over the barren heaths we shut our eyes and evoked the old memories of Armorica, while the mild image of Guy de Bretagne and of Isabelle aux Blanches Mains[136] mingled in our imaginations with the shades of the martyrs. Dear Kate, I enjoyed
this excursion immensely. The farther I go, the more I realize the happiness which God has allotted me in giving me for guide, adviser, and support this dear and gentle René, so truly the brother of my heart. We have been reading together the life of Saint Elizabeth by M. de Montalembert. The “dear saint” of Protestant Germany was wont to call her husband by the sweet name of brother, and this we thought so suave, so charming, and angelic that we agreed to call each other brother and sister when we are alone. Oh! what a heavenly thing is Christian love. That which I first of all admired in René, even when he was to me merely a stranger, was his recollectedness in church. He has often said to me—and with what earnestness!—“Georgina, let Jesus be all in all to us.” It is to your prayers, my darling Kate, that I owe this happy destiny.
What a surprise! My Aunt de K—— was not expected before the end of the week; but this morning, on returning from my visits among the poor, René left me at the house door, and I hastened as usual into the drawing-room to say good-morning to the dear little ones who daily welcome me with shouts of joy. On entering I beheld an unknown face; it was the solemn aunt. A sudden blush mounted even to my forehead. My mother-in-law introduced me; while I lost myself in reverences, my aunt bestowed on me a half-inclination of the head—so cold! looking at me all the time with so searching an eye that I was almost out of countenance. Fortunately, the door was again thrown open very wide, and a footman in full livery announced Mme. Edouard, M. Gaston (this is the pretty baby), and in succession
M. et Mme. Adrien, M. et Mme. Raoul, M. et Mme. Paul. All were richly dressed. I hid myself as well as I could behind Lucy’s fauteuil to keep my shabby toilet out of sight, and then took advantage of the entrance of the children to make my escape before the entry of René. The solemnity of the déjeûner nearly sent me to sleep. At eight o’clock in the evening Mme. de K—— retired to her room, alleging that she was fatigued with her journey; you may judge whether any one tried to detain her. Then we began to dress ourselves up, and exchanged silence for joyous dances and merry laughter. Duchesse was a “golden fairy,” superb with her lofty air; there is a touch of my solemn aunt about her. Picciola was charming in her ribbon-decked costume of a shepherdess. Your Georgina was dressed en Sévigné; the sparkling Lucy as a soubrette of the time of Louis XIV. A few intimate friends joined us about nine o’clock. The brilliant chords of the piano troubled not the repose of Mme. de K——, who was purposely lodged far from the noise. Our songs, our dances, and lively follies went on till one o’clock; and as I am not tired, and, besides, make a point of sending you news of us before mortifying Lent shall have proclaimed a truce to our delights, with René’s permission I relate to you these little events. Dear Kate, my letters will no longer speak of anything but sanctity. I kiss you with all my heart. My brother, who is beginning to read me a chapter of the Imitation, tells you how much he is devoted to you in Him whose love is the bond of our souls.
March 10.