To Sarah Jenkins
It was pathetic to see your Voice instead of hearing it, for it has grown sweetly familiar in the House, as a Bird's. Father left us in June - you leave us in May. I am glad there will be no April till another year. Austin brought the note and waited like a hungry Boy for his crumb of words. Be sure to speak his name next time, he looks so solitary.
He told me that he could not sleep Friday night or Saturday night, and so rose and read lethargic Books to stupefy himself.
Sorrow is unsafe when it is real sorrow. I am glad so many are counterfeits - guileless because they believe themselves.
Kiss Diddie and Mac for us, precious Refugees, with love for our Brother whom with you we follow in the peculiar distance, "even unto the end."
Perhaps it is "the end" now. I think the Bell thought so because it bade us all goodbye when you stood in the Door.
You concealed that you heard it. Thank you.
Last updated on November 22, 1999