[_Saranac_, _March_ 1888.]
MY DEAR COLVIN,—Fanny has been very unwell. She is not long home, has
been ill again since her return, but is now better again to a degree.
You must not blame her for not writing, as she is not allowed to write at
all, not even a letter. To add to our misfortunes, Valentine is quite
ill and in bed. Lloyd and I get breakfast; I have now, 10.15, just got
the dishes washed and the kitchen all clear, and sit down to give you as
much news as I have spirit for, after such an engagement. Glass is a
thing that really breaks my spirit: I do not like to fail, and with glass
I cannot reach the work of my high calling—the artist’s.
I am, as you may gather from this, wonderfully better: this harsh, grey,
glum, doleful climate has done me good. You cannot fancy how sad a
climate it is. When the thermometer stays all day below 10°, it is
really cold; and when the wind blows, O commend me to the result.
Pleasure in life is all delete; there is no red spot left, fires do not
radiate, you burn your hands all the time on what seem to be cold stones.
It is odd, zero is like summer heat to us now; and we like, when the
thermometer outside is really low, a room at about 48°: 60° we find
oppressive. Yet the natives keep their holes at 90° or even 100°.
This was interrupted days ago by household labours. Since then I have
had and (I tremble to write it, but it does seem as if I had) beaten off
an influenza. The cold is exquisite. Valentine still in bed. The
proofs of the first part of the _Master of Ballantrae_ begin to come in;
soon you shall have it in the pamphlet form; and I hope you will like it.
The second part will not be near so good; but there—we can but do as
it’ll do with us. I have every reason to believe this winter has done me
real good, so far as it has gone; and if I carry out my scheme for next
winter, and succeeding years, I should end by being a tower of strength.
I want you to save a good holiday for next winter; I hope we shall be
able to help you to some larks. Is there any Greek Isle you would like
to explore? or any creek in Asia Minor?—Yours ever affectionately,