_Louisa Clifton to Frank Henley_
_Rose-Bank_
Sir,
I, like my dear mamma, am impelled to endeavour to return thanks for
benefits, at the recollection of which the heart sinks, and all thanks
become inadequate and vain. Yet suffer a sister's thanks for a brother
spared, pardoned, and restored to life! Restored at the hazard of your
own, and after a mortal affront received! Restored by the energies of
fortitude, sagacity, and affection!
Indeed, sir, I cannot tell you what I feel. It is utterly impossible.
Imagine me your friend, your sister. Command my life, it is yours.
Yours not so much because the youth you have saved happened to be my
brother, as for the true esteem I have for qualities so exalted. This
is not the first time you have excited my admiration, and permit me to
add my love. Your heart is too noble to misunderstand me. I love
virtue, in man or woman; and if that be sin may I be ever sinful!
I would wish you the joys of heaven, but my wishes are vain; you have
them already: nor can a mind like yours be robbed of them, by all the
powers of man or accident.