The shades of
evening made her retrace her footsteps--sick for want of food, but not
hungry; fatigued with long continued exercise--yet restless still, and
doomed to another weary, haunted night of sleeplessness. She would
thread the streets in the neighbourhood of the Rue d'Isabelle, and yet
avoid it and its occupant, till as late an hour as she dared be out. At
last, she was compelled to keep her bed for some days, and this
compulsory rest did her good. She was weak, but less depressed in
spirits than she had been, when the school re-opened, and her positive
practical duties recommenced.
She writes thus:--
"October 13th, 1843
"Mary is getting on well, as she deserves to do. I often hear from her.
Her letters and yours are one of my few pleasures. She urges me very
much to leave Brussels and go to her; but, at present, however tempted to
take such a step, I should not feel justified in doing so. To leave a
certainty for a complete uncertainty, would be to the last degree
imprudent. Notwithstanding that, Brussels is indeed desolate to me now.
Since the D.s left, I have had no friend. I had, indeed, some very kind
acquaintances in the family of a Dr. ---, but they, too, are gone now.
They left in the latter part of August, and I am completely alone. I
cannot count the Belgians anything.
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