The following letter is shown, by the similarity of its contents to the one which succeeds it, to belong to November 1839, when Miss Barrett was entering on her second winter in Torquay.

To Mrs. Martin Beacon Terrace, Torquay:  November 24 [1839].

My dearest Mrs. Martin,—­Henrietta shall not write to-day, whatever she may wish to do.  I felt, in reading your unreproaching letter to her, as self-reproachful as anybody could with a great deal of innocence (in the way of the world) to fall back upon.  I felt sorry, very sorry, not to have written something to you something sooner, which was a possible thing—­although, since the day of my receiving your welcome letter, I have written scarcely at all, nor that little without much exertion.  Had it been with me as usual, be sure that you should not have had any silence to complain of.  Henrietta knew I wished to write, and felt, I suppose, unwilling to take my place when my filling it myself before long appeared possible.  A long story—­and not as entertaining as Mother Hubbard.  But I would rather tire you than leave you under any wrong impression, where my regard and thankfulness to you, dearest Mrs. Martin, are concerned.

To reply to your kind anxiety about me, I may call myself decidedly better than I have been.  Since October I I have not been out of bed—­except just for an hour a day, when I am lifted to the sofa with the bare permission of my physician—­who tells me that it is so much easier to make me worse than better, that he dares not permit anything like exposure or further exertion.  I like him (Dr. Scully) very much, and although he evidently thinks my case in the highest degree precarious, yet knowing how much I bore last winter and understanding from him that the worst tubercular symptoms have not actually appeared, I am willing to think it may be God’s will to keep me here still longer.  I would willingly stay, if it were only for the sake of that tender affection of my beloved family which it so deeply affects me to consider.  Dearest papa is with us now—­to my great comfort and joy:  and looking very well!—­and astonishing everybody with his eternal youthfulness!  Bro and Henrietta and Arabel besides, I can count as companions—­and then there is dear Bummy!  We are fixed at Torquay for the winter—­that is, until the end of May:  and after that, if I have any will or power and am alive to exercise either, I do trust and hope to go away.  The death of my kind friend Dr. Bury was, as you suppose, a great grief and shock to me.  How could it be otherwise, after his daily kindness to me for a year?  And then his young wife and child—­and the rapidity (a three weeks’ illness) with which he was hurried away from the energies and toils and honors of professional life to the stillness of that death!

‘God’s Will’ is the only answer to the mystery of the world’s afflictions....