Maidstone indeed is not so very far off, but one may hear every day, once or twice, by a man and horse; so I will go, to shew my obedience, since Mr. B. is so intent upon it—­But I cannot live, if I am not permitted to come back—­Oh! let me be enabled, gracious Father! to close this letter more happily than I have begun it!

I have been so dreadfully uneasy at Maidstone, that Mr. B. has been so good as to return with me hither; and I find my baby’s case not yet quite desperate—­I am easier now I see him, in presence of his beloved papa who lets me have all my way, and approves of my preparative method for myself; and he tells me that since I will have it so, he will indulge me in my attendance on the child, and endeavour to imitate my reliance on God—­that is his kind expression—­and leave the issue to him.  And on my telling him, that I feared nothing in the distemper, but the loss of his love, he said, in presence of the doctors, and my father and mother, pressing my hand to his lips—­“My dearest life, make yourself easy under this affliction, and apprehend nothing for yourself:  I love you more, for your mind than for your face.  That and your person will be the same; and were that sweet face to be covered with seams and scars, I will value you the more for the misfortune:  and glad I am, that I had your picture so well drawn in town, to satisfy those who have heard of your loveliness, what you were, and hitherto are.  For myself, my admiration lies deeper;” and, drawing me to the other end of the room, whisperingly he said, “The last uneasiness between us, I now begin to think, was necessary, because it has turned all my delight in you, more than ever, to the perfections of your mind:  and so God preserves to me the life of my Pamela, I care not for my own part, what ravages the distemper makes here,” and tapped my cheek.—­How generous, how noble, how comforting was this!

When I went from my apartment, to go to my child, my dear Mr. B. met me at the nursery door, and led me back again.  “You must not go in again, my dearest.  They have just been giving the child other things to try to drive out the malady; and some pustules seem to promise on his breast.”  I made no doubt, my baby was then in extremity; and I would have given the world to have shed a few tears, but I could not.

With the most soothing goodness he led me to my desk, and withdrew to attend the dear baby himself—­to see his last gaspings, poor little lamb, I make no doubt!

In this suspense, my own strange hardness of heart would not give up one tear, for the passage from that to my eyes seemed quite choaked up, which used to be so open and ready on other occasions, affecting ones too.

Two days have passed, dreadful days of suspense:  and now, blessed be God! who has given me hope that our prayers are heard, the pustules come kindly out, very thick in his breast, and on his face:  but of a good sort, they tell me.—­They won’t let me see him; indeed they won’t!—­What cruel kindness is this!  One must believe all they tell one!