Worse
seemed at hand than was yet endured--in truth, worse awaited us.
'All this bitterness must be tasted. Perhaps the palate will grow
used to the draught in time, and find its flavour less acrid. This
pain must be undergone; its poignancy, I trust, will be blunted one
day. Ellen would have come back with me but I would not let her. I
knew it would be better to face the desolation at once--later or
sooner the sharp pang must be experienced.
'Labour must be the cure, not sympathy. Labour is the only radical
cure for rooted sorrow. The society of a calm, serenely cheerful
companion--such as Ellen--soothes pain like a soft opiate, but I find
it does not probe or heal the wound; sharper, more severe means, are
necessary to make a remedy. Total change might do much; where that
cannot be obtained, work is the best substitute.
'I by no means ask Miss Kavanagh to write to me. Why should she
trouble herself to do it? What claim have I on her? She does not
know me--she cannot care for me except vaguely and on hearsay. I
have got used to your friendly sympathy, and it comforts me. I have
tried and trust the fidelity of one or two other friends, and I lean
upon it. The natural affection of my father and the attachment and
solicitude of our two servants are precious and consolatory to me,
but I do not look round for general pity; conventional condolence I
do not want, either from man or woman.
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