Late in September she returned to town, still oppressed by the thought of going to Chicago.  In a letter to Mrs. Condict, dated October 2d, she writes: 

We got home on Friday night, and very early on Saturday were settled down into the old routine.  But how different everything is!  At church tearful, clouded faces; at home, warmhearted friends looking upon us as for the last time.  It is all right.  I would not venture to change it if I could; but it is hard.  At times it seems as if my heart would literally break to pieces, but we are mercifully kept from realising our sorrows all the time.  The waves dash in and almost overwhelm, but then they sweep back and are stayed by an almighty, kind hand....  It is like tearing off a limb to leave our dear prayer-meeting.  Next to my closet, it has been to me the sweetest spot on earth.  I never expect to find such another.

To another friend she writes a day or two later: 

My heart fairly collapses at times, at the thought of tearing myself away from those whom Christian ties have made dearer to me than my kindred after the flesh.  And then comes the precious privilege and relief of telling my yet dearer and better Friend all about it, and the sweet peace begotten of yielding my will to His.  I want to be of all the use and comfort to you and to the other dear ones He will let me be during these few months.  Do pray for me that I may so live Christ as to bear others along with me on a resistless tide.  Those lines you copied for me are a great comfort: 

  “Rather walking with Him by faith,
  Than walking alone in the light.”

Of the little praying circle, alluded to in her letter to Mrs. C., one of its members writes: 

It was unique even among meetings of its own class.  Held in an upper chamber, never largely attended and sometimes only by the “two or three,” it was almost unknown except to the few, who regarded it as among their chiefest religious privileges.  All the other members would gladly have had Mrs. Prentiss assume its entire leadership; but she assumed nothing and was no doubt quite unconscious as to how large an extent she was the life and soul of the meeting.  In the familiar conversation of the hour nothing fell from her lips but such simple words as, coming from a glowing heart, strengthened and deepened the spiritual life of all who heard them.  She had, in a degree I never knew equalled, the gift of leading the devotions of others.  But there was not the slightest approach to performance in her prayers; she abhorred the very thought of it.  Those who knelt with her can never forget the pure devotion which breathed itself forth in simple exquisite language; but it was something beyond the power of description.

Another member of the circle writes: 

Her prayers were so simple, so earnest, so childlike.  We all felt we were in the very presence of our loving Father.  One thing especially always impressed me during that sacred hour—­it was her quietness of manner.  She was very cordial and affectionate in her greetings with each one, as we assembled, and then a holy awe, a solemn hush, came over her spirit and she seemed like one who saw the Lord!  O how we all miss her!  There is never a meeting but we keep her in remembrance and talk together lovingly about her.