Clara has not arrived, and up to this moment there is no answer. This
is the more strange as she used to write every day, inquiring after my
health. Her silence would not surprise me if I thought she wanted even
ten minutes to make up her mind. I shall wait patiently; but it would
be better if she did not put it off. I feel that if I had not sent off
that letter, I should send now another like it; but if I could take it
back I should probably do so.