You have been in all my thoughts, and they have been such pitiful,
tender thoughts, that I cannot help letting you know that somebody
is sorry for you. For the rest, the heart knoweth its own, and I
am, after all, too much of a stranger to my sister’s child to
intermeddle.
So my letter dies upon my pen. You cannot bear words yet. How
should I dare to fret you with them? I can only reach you by my
silence, and leave you with the Heart that bled and broke for you
and Roy.
Your Aunt,