t--was apprehended for me at that time. So I was sent down with my
sister to my aunt there--and he, my brother whom I loved so, was sent
too, to take us there and return. And when the time came for him to
leave me, _I_, to whom he was the dearest of friends and brothers in
one ... the only one of my family who ... well, but I cannot write of
these things; and it is enough to tell you that he was above us all,
better than us all, and kindest and noblest and dearest to _me_,
beyond comparison, any comparison, as I said--and when the time came
for him to leave me _I_, weakened by illness, could not master my
spirits or drive back my tears--and my aunt kissed them away instead
of reproving me as she should have done; and said that _she_ would
take care that I should not be grieved ... _she_! ... and so she sate
down and wrote a letter to Papa to tell him that he would 'break my
heart' if he persisted in calling away my brother--As if hearts were
broken _so_! I have thought bitterly since that my heart did not break
for a good deal more than _that_! And Papa's answer was--burnt into
me, as with fire, it is--that 'under such circumstances he did not
refuse to suspend his purpose, but that he considered it to be _very
wrong in me to exact such a thing_.' So there was no separation
_then_: and month after month passed--and sometimes I was better and
sometimes worse--and the medical men continued to say that they would
not answer for my life ... they! if I were agitated--and so there was
no more talk of a separation. And once _he_ held my hand, ... how I
remember! and said that he 'loved me better than them all and that he
_would not_ leave me ... till I was well,' he said! how I remember
_that_! And ten days from that day the boat had left the shore which
never returned; never--and he _had_ left me! gone! For three days we
waited--and I hoped while I could--oh--that awful agony of three days!
And the sun shone as it shines to-day, and there was no more wind than
now; and the sea under the windows was like this paper for
smoothness--and my sisters drew the curtains back that I might see for
myself how smooth the sea was, and how it could hurt nobody--and other
boats came back one by one.

Remember how you wrote in your 'Gismond'

What says the body when they spring
Some monstrous torture-engine's whole
Strength on it? No more says the soul,

and you never wrote anything which _lived_ with me more than _that_.
It