Thus far, my friends have received news that must have been an
unpleasant surprise to them, in a way that, _á moi_, does them great
honor. None have shown littleness or displeasure, at being denied my
confidence while they were giving their own. Many have expressed the
warmest sympathy, and only one has shown a disposition to transgress
the limit I myself had marked, and to ask questions. With her, I
think, this was because she was annoyed by what people said, and
wished to be able to answer them. I replied to her, that I had
communicated already all I intended, and should not go into
detail;--that when unkind things were said about me, she should let
them pass. Will you, dear E----, do the same? I am sure your affection
for me will prompt you to add, that you feel confident whatever I
have done has been in a good spirit, and not contrary to _my_ ideas
of right. For the rest, you will not admit for me,--as I do not for
myself,--the rights of the social inquisition of the United States to
know all the details of my affairs. If my mother is content; if Ossoli
and I are content; if our child, when grown up, shall be content; that
is enough. You and I know enough of the United States to be sure that
many persons there will blame whatever is peculiar. The lower-minded
persons, everywhere, are sure to think that whatever is mysterious
must be bad. But I think there will remain for me a sufficient number
of friends to keep my heart warm, and to help me earn my bread;--that
is all that is of any consequence. Ossoli seems to me more lovely and
good every day; our darling child is well now, and every day more gay
and playful. For his sake I shall have courage; and hope some good
angel will show us the way out of our external difficulties.