had a meeting, to which--shall I confess it?--I looked
forward as the happiest moment of my life. I can hardly
tell you what my feelings were when I found that you were
going, and that I could only just say to you, farewell. If
I could only have been with you when that letter came I
think I could have softened your sorrow, and perhaps then,
in your gentleness, you might have said a word which would
have left me nothing to wish for in this world. But it has
been otherwise ordered, and, Margaret, I do not complain.

But what makes me write now is the great necessity that
I should know exactly how I stand. You said something in
your last dear letter which gave me to understand that you
wished to do something for your brother's family. Promises
made by the bed-sides of the dying are always dangerous,
and in the cases of Roman Catholics have been found to be
replete with ruin.

Mr Maguire, no doubt, forgot that in such cases the promises are made
by, and not to, the dying person.

Nevertheless, I am far from saying that they should not
be kept in a modified form, and you need not for a moment
think that I, if I may be allowed to have an interest in
the matter, would wish to hinder you from doing whatever
may be becoming. I think I may promise you that you will
find no mercenary spirit in me, although, of course, I am
bound, looking forward to the tender tie which will, I
hope, connect us, to regard your interests above all other
worldly affairs. If I may then say a word of advice, it is
to recommend that nothing permanent be done till we can
act together in this matter. Do not, however, suppose that
anything you can do or have done, can alter the nature of
my regard.

But now, dearest Margaret, will you not allow me to press
for an immediate answer to my appeal? I will tell you
exactly how I am circumstanced, and then you will see
how strong is my reason that there should be no delay.
Very many people here, I may say all the elite of the
evangelical circles, including Mrs Perch--[Mrs Perch was
the coachmaker's wife, who had always been so true to Mrs
Stumfold]--desired that I should establish a church here,
on my own bottom, quite independent of Mr Stumfold. The
Stumfolds would then soon have to leave Littlebath, there
is no doubt of that, and she has already made herself
so unendurable, and