, I must write all I have done, and what have been my
thoughts, for the last five weeks. I had a very wrong idea
when I left Ireland. It was this: I thought that you had
entirely forgotten me. I was, nevertheless, very anxious to
come to Tichborne for a short time to take a last farewell
of you, my uncle, and my aunt. My mind and heart were then
so much oppressed by these thoughts, that it was my
intention not to come back from India for ten or fifteen
years. I loved you, my dearest K., as dearly as ever. I
would have done anything in this world to oblige you, and
give you more of that happiness which I hoped I might see
you enjoy. I would have given my life for your happiness'
sake. To have seen all these things, I repeat again, with a
dry eye and an unbroken heart, or for a person who has a
strong feeling of attachment towards another to behold it,
is almost beyond human power. These feelings will arise when
I shall be thousands of miles from you, but I have taken my
pains and sorrows and your happiness in this world, and said
a prayer that you might bear the pains and sorrows of this
world with courage and resignation, and by these means be
happy in the next. When I came here I found I had been
mistaken in the opinion I had formed, and I reproached
myself bitterly for ever having such an idea. It is not
necessary for me to mention that I got rid of these bad
thoughts in a few minutes. Things went on happily until
Sunday, January 11, 1852, when I was sent for by my uncle at
breakfast. What took place between us I think it unnecessary
to repeat, as you know already. I was obliged to leave the
next morning by the first train for London. I never felt
before so deeply in my life what it was to part with the
only person I ever loved. How deeply I felt I cannot
express, but I shall try to explain as much of it as I can
in the next chapter.

"What I have suffered last night I cannot easily explain.
You do not know, my own dearest K., what are my feelings
towards you. You cannot conceive how much I loved you. It
breaks my heart, my own dearest K., to think how long I
shall be without seeing you. I do feel that more than I can
tell you. You have the comfort of a home, and, moreover, at
some time or other, some person to whom you can