I am writing now chiefly at Mary’s advice, and because she says that something should be settled about the estate.  Of course it is necessary that you should feel yourself to be the mistress of your own income, and understand exactly your own position.  Mary says that this should be arranged at once, so that you may be able to decide how and where you will live.  I therefore write to say that I will have nothing to do with your father’s estate at Belton nothing, that is, for myself.  I have written to Mr Green to tell him that you are to be considered as the heir.  If you will allow me to undertake the management of the property as your agent, I shall be delighted.  I think I could do it as well as any one else:  and, as we agreed that we would always be dear and close friends, I think that you will not refuse me the pleasure of serving you in this way.

And now Mary has a proposition to make, as to which she will write herself tomorrow, but she has permitted me to speak of it first.  If you will accept her as a visitor, she will go to you at Belton.  She thinks, and I think too, that you ought to know each other.  I suppose nothing would make you come here, at present, and therefore she must go to you.  She thinks that all about the estate would be settled more comfortably if you two were together.  At any rate, it would be very nice for her and I think you would like my sister Mary.  She proposes to start about the 10th of May.  I should take her as far as London and see her off, and she would bring her own maid with her.  In this way she thinks that she would get as far as Taunton very well.  She had, perhaps, better stay there for one night, but that can all be settled if you will say that you will receive her at the house.

I cannot finish my letter without saying one word for myself.  You know what my feelings have been, and I think you know that they still are, and always must be, the same.  From almost the first moment that I saw you I have loved you.  When you refused me I was very unhappy; but I thought I might still have a chance, and therefore I resolved to try again.  Then, when I heard that you were engaged to Captain Aylmer, I was indeed broken-hearted.  Of course I could not be angry with you.  I was not angry, but I was simply broken-hearted.  I found that I loved you so much that I could not make myself happy without you.  It was all of no use, for I knew that you were to be married to Captain Aylmer.  I knew it, or thought that I knew it.  There was nothing to be done only I knew that I was wretched.  I suppose it is selfishness, but I felt, and still feel, that unless I can have you for my wife, I cannot be happy or car for anything.  Now you are free again free, I mean, from Captain Aylmer and how is it possible that I should not again have a hope?  Nothing but your marriage or death could keep me from hoping.