to my agony, and have mercy on me so far as to write me some word of uncle, never, never to be seen in this world by my eyes again!

‘Dear, if your heart is hard towards me — justly hard, I know — but, listen, if it is hard, dear, ask him I have wronged the most — him whose wife I was to have been — before you quite decide against my poor poor prayer!

If he should be so compassionate as to say that you might write something for me to read — I think he would, oh, I think he would, if you would only ask him, for he always was so brave and so forgiving — tell him then (but not else), that when I hear the wind blowing at night, I feel as if it was passing angrily from seeing him and uncle, and was going up to God against me. Tell him that if I was to die tomorrow