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had a moderate fixed income.
One wants but little money here, and can have with it many of the noblest enjoyments.
I should have been very glad if fate would allow me a few years of congenial life, at the end of not a few of struggle and suffering.
But I do not hope it; my fate will be the same to the close,— beautiful gifts shown, and then withdrawn, or offered on conditions that make acceptance impossible.
I write such a great number of letters, having not less than a hundred correspondents, that it seems, every day, as if I had just written to each.
There is no one, surely, this side of the salt sea, with whom I wish more to keep up the interchange of thought than with you.
I believe, if you could know my heart as God knows it, and see the causes that regulate my conduct, you would always love me. But already, in absence, I have lost, for the present, some of those who were dear to me, by failure of letters, or false report.
After sorrowing much about a falsehood told me of a dearest friend, I found his letter at Torlonia's, which had been there ten months, and, duly received, would have made all right.
There is something fatal in my destiny about correspondence.
But I will say no more of this; only the loss of that letter to you, at such an unfortunate time,—just when I most wished to seem the loving and grateful friend I was,— made me fear it might be my destiny to lose you too. But if any cross event shall do me this ill turn on
