Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy.
last, news of Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write.
I am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins sent me
on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave in the morning and
go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if necessary, and to bring him home.
Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad thing if we were to be married out there.
I have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against
my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be near my heart, for he
is in my heart.
My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am
only taking one change of dress. Lucy will bring my trunk to London and keep it
till I send for it, for it may be that . . . I must write no more. I must keep
it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must
comfort me till we meet.