I have borne, to have the prospects and assurances I rejoice
in!--Assurances I might not have had, were my own wishes to have been
granted to me!

Neither do I want to see even you, my dear Mrs. Norton. Nevertheless I
must, in justice to my own gratitude, declare, that there was a time,
could you have been permitted to come, without incurring displeasure from
those whose esteem it is necessary for you to cultivate and preserve,
that your presence and comfortings would have been balm to my wounded
mind. But were you now, even by consent, and with reconciliatory
tidings, to come, it would but add to your grief; and the sight of one I
so dearly love, so happily fraught with good news, might but draw me back
to wishes I have had great struggles to get above. And let me tell you
for your comfort, that I have not left undone any thing that ought to be
done, either respecting mind or person; no, not to the minutest
preparation: so that nothing is left for you to do for me. Every one has
her direction as to the last offices.--And my desk, that I now write upon
--O my dearest Mrs. Norton, all is provided!--All is ready! And all will
be as decent as it should be!

And pray let my Miss Howe know, that by the time you will receive this,
and she your signification of the contents of it, will, in all
probability, be too late for her to do me the inestimable favour, as I
should once have thought it, to see me. God will have no rivals in the
hearts of those he sanctifies. By various methods he deadens all other
sensations, or rather absorbs them all in the love of him.

I shall nevertheless love you, my Mamma Norton, and my Miss Howe, whose
love to me has passed the love of woman, to my latest hour!--But yet, I
am now above the quick sense of those pleasures which once delighted me,
and once more I say, that I do not wish to see objects so dear to me,
which might bring me back again into sense, and rival my supreme love.

***

Twice have I been forced to leave off. I wished, that my last writing
might be to you, or to Miss Howe, if it might not be to my dearest Ma----

Mamma, I would have wrote--is the word distinct?--My eyes are so misty!--
If, when I apply to you, I break off in half-words, do you supply them--
the kindest are your due.--Be sure take the kindest, to fill up chasms
with, if any chasms there be--

***

Another breaking off!--But the new day seems to rise upon me with healing
in its wings. I h