I hear that Mrs. Jewkes is in no good state of health. I am very sorry
for it. I pray for her life, that she may be a credit (if it please
God) to the penitence she has so lately assumed.
Do, my dear _good_ Miss, vouchsafe to the poor soul the honour of a
visit: she may be low-spirited.--She may be too much sunk with the
recollection of past things. Comfort, with that sweetness which is so
natural to Miss Darnford, her drooping heart; and let her know, that I
have a true concern for her, and give it her in charge to take care of
herself, and spare nothing that will administer either to her health
or peace of mind.
You'll pardon me that I put you upon an office so unsuitable from a
lady in your station, to a person in hers; but not to your piety and
charity, where a duty so eminent as that of visiting the sick, and
cheering the doubting mind, is in the question.
I know your condescension will give her great comfort; and if she
should be hastening to her account, what a pleasure will it give
such a lady as you, to have illuminated a benighted mind, when it was
tottering on the verge of death!
I know she will want no spiritual help from good Mr. Peters; but then
the kind notice of so generally esteemed a young lady, will raise her
more than can be imagined: for there is a tenderness, a sympathy, in
the good persons of our sex to one another, that (while the best of
the other seem but to act as in office, saying those things, which,
though edifying and convincing, one is not certain proceeds not
rather from the fortitude of their minds, than the tenderness of their
natures) mingles with one's very spirits, thins the animal mass, and
runs through one's heart in the same lify current (I can't clothe my
thought suitably to express what I would), giving assurance, as well
as pleasure, in the most arduous cases, and brightening our misty
prospects, till we see the Sun of Righteousness rising on the hills of
comfort, and dispelling the heavy fogs of doubt and diffidence.
This it is makes me wish and long as I do, for the company of my dear
Miss Darnford. O when shall I see you? When shall I?--To speak to
my present case, it is _all I long for_; and, pardon my freedom of
expression, as well as thought, when I let you know in this instance,
how _early_ I experience the _ardent longings_ of one in the way I am
in.
But I ought not to set my heart upon any thing not in my own power,
and which may be subject to accidents, and the control of others. But
let whatever interventions happen, so I have your _will_ to come, I
must be rejoiced in your kind intention, although your _power_ should
not prove answerable.
But I will say no more, than that I am, my honoured father and
mother, your ever dutiful daughter; and, my dear Miss Darnford, _your
affectionate and obliged_ P.B.