dirty streetsThe housekeeper opened a door, and said a few words inside, which I could not hear, and then let me in where the young lady wasOh, William! she had the sweetest, kindest face I ever saw in my lifeBut it was so pale, and there was such a sad look air jordan spizike high heels in her eyes when she asked me to sit down, that it went to my heart, when I thought of the news I had to tell herI couldn’t speak just at first; and I suppose she thought I was in some troublefor she begged me not to tell her what I wanted, till I was betterShe said it with such a voice and such a look, that, like a great fool, I burst out crying, instead of answering as I oughtBut it did me good, though, and made me able to tell her about her brother (breaking it as gently as I could) before I gave her the doctor’s letterShe never opened it; but stood up before me as if she was turned to stonenot able to cry, or speak, or moveIt frightened me so, to see her in such a dreadful state, that I forgot all about the grand house, and the difference there was between us; and took her in my arms, making her sit down on the sofa by mejust as I should do, if I was consoling our own Susan under some great troubleWell! I soon made her look more like herself, comforting her in every way I could think of: and she laid her poor head on my shoulder, and I took and kissed her, (not remembering a bit about its being a born lady and a stranger that I was kissing); and the tears came at last, and did her goodAs soon as she could speak, she thanked God her brother was found, and had fallen into kind handsShe hadn’t courage to read the doctor’s letter herself, and asked me to do itThough he gave a very bad account of the young gentleman, he said that care and nursing, and getting him away from a strange place to his own home and air jordan 23 high heels among his friends, might do wonders for him yetWhen I came to this part of the letter, she started up, and asked me to give it to herThen she inquired when I was going back to Cornwall; and I saidas soon as possible,” (for indeed, it’s time I was home, William)Wait; pray wait till I have shown this letter to my father!” says sheAnd she ran out of the room with it in her handAfter some time, she came back with her face all of a flush, like; looking quite different to what she did before, and saying that I had done more to make the family happy by coming with that letter, than she could ever thank me for as she oughtA gentleman followed her in, who was her eldest brother (she said); the pleasantest, liveliest gentleman I ever sawHe shook hands as if he had known me all his life; and told me I was the first person he had ever met with who had done good in a family by bringing them bad newsThen he asked me whether I was ready to go to Cornwall the next morning with him, and the young lady, and a friend of his who was a doctorI had thought already of getting the parting over with poor Susan, that very day: so I saidYes” After that, they wouldn’t let me go away till I had had something to eat and drink; and the dear, kind young lady asked me all about Susan, and where she was living, and about you and the children, just as if she had known us like neighboursPoor thing! she was so flurried, and so anxious for the next morning, that it was all the gentleman could do to keep her quiet, and prevent her falling into a sort of laughing and crying fit, which it seems she had been liable to latelyAt last they let me go away: and I went and stayed with Susan as long as I could before I bid her good-byeShe bore the parting bravelypoor, dear child! God in heaven bless her; and I’m sure he will; for a better daughter no mother ever hadMy dear husband, I am afraid this letter is very badly written; but the tears are in my eyes, thinking of Susan; and I feel so wearied and flurried after what has happenedWe are to go off very early to-morrow morning in a carriage, which is to be put on the railwayOnly think of my riding home in a fine carriage, with gentlefolks!— how surprised Willie, and Nancy, and the other children will be! I shall get to Treen almost as soon as my letter; but I nike heels thought I would write, so that you might have the good news, the first moment it could get to you, to tell the poor young gentlemanI’m sure it must make him better, only to hear that his brother and sister are coming to fetch him homeI can’t write any more, dear William, I’m so very tired; except that I long to see you and the little ones again; MARY PENHALELetter iiiTo MrJohn Bernard, from the Writer of the Fore-Going Autobiography Lanreath Cottage, BreconshireMY DEAR FRIEND, I find, by your last letter, that you doubt whether I still remember the circumstances under which I made a certain promise to you, more than eight years agoYou are mistaken: not one of those circumstances has escaped my memoryTo satisfy you of this, I will now recapitulate themYou will own, I think, that I have forgotten nothingAfter my removal from Cornwall (shall I ever forget the first sight of Clara and Ralph at my bedside!), when the nervous malady from which I suffered so long, had yielded to the affectionate devotion of my familyaided by the untiring exercise of your skillone of my first anxieties was to show that I could gratefully appreciate your exertions for my good, by reposing the same confidence in you, which I should place in my nearest and dearest relativesFrom the time when we first met at the hospital, your services were devoted to me, through much misery of mind and body, with the delicacy and the self-denial of a true friendI felt that it was only your due that you should know by what trials I had been reduced to the situation in which you found me, when you accompanied my brother and sister to CornwallI felt this; and placed in your hands, for your own private perusal, the narrative which I had written of my error and of its terrible consequencesTo tell you all that had happened to me, with my own lips, was more than I could do thenand even after this lapse of years, would be more than I could do nowAfter you had read the narrative, you urged me, on returning it into my possession, to permit its publication during my lifetimeI granted the justness of the reasons which led you to counsel me thus; but I told you, at the same time, that an obstacle, which I was bound to respect, would prevent me from following your adviceWhile my father lived, I could not suffer a manuscript in which he was represented (no matter under what excess of provocation) as separating himself in the bitterest hostility from his own son, to be made public propertyI could not suffer events of which we never afterwards spoke ourselves, to be given to others in the form of a printed narrative which might perhaps fall under his own eyeYou acknowledged, I remember, the justice of these considerations and promised, in case I died before him, to keep back my manuscript from publication as long as my father livedIn binding yourself to that engagement, however, you stipulated, and I agreed, that I should reconsider your arguments in case I outlived himThis was my promise, and these were the circumstances under which it was madeYou nike high heels uk will allow, I think, that my memory is more accurate than you had imagined it to beAnd now, you write to remind me of my part of our agreementforbearing, with your accustomed delicacy, to introduce the subject, until more than six months have elapsed since my father’s deathYou have done wellI have had time to feel all the consolation afforded to me by the remembrance that, for years past, my life was of some use in sweetening my father’s; that his death has occurred in the ordinary course of Nature; and that I never, to my own knowledge, gave him any cause to repent the full and loving reconciliation which took place between us, as soon as we could speak together freely after my return to homeStill I am not answering your question:— Am I now willing to permit the publication of my narrative, provided all names and places mentioned in it remained concealed, and I am known to no one but yourself, Ralph, and Clara, as the writer of my own storyI reply that I am willingIn a few days, you will receive the manuscript by a safe handNeither my brother nor my sister object to its being made public on the terms I have mentioned; and I feel no hesitation in accepting the permission thus accorded to meI have not glossed over the flightiness of Ralph’s character; but the brotherly kindness and manly  
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