More I do not feel strength to say. You can hardly guess how all attempt to express something about the great struggles and experiences of my European life enfeebles me. When I get home, — if ever I do, — it will be told without this fatigue and excitement. I trust there will be a little repose, before entering anew on this wearisome conflict.
I had addressed yon twice, — once under the impression that I should not survive the birth of my child; again during the siege of Rome, the father and I being both in danger. I took Mrs. Story, and, when she left Rome, Mr. Cass, into my confidence. Both were kind as sister and brother. Amid much pain and struggle, sweet is the memory of the generous love I received from William and Emelyn Story, and their uncle. They helped me gently through a most difficult period. Mr. Cass, also, who did not know me at all, has done everything possible for me.
A letter to her sister fills out these portraits of her
husband and child.
About Ossoli[1] I do not like to say much, as he is an
exceedingly delicate person. He is not precisely
reserved, but it is not natural to him to talk about the
objects of strong affection. I am sure he would not try
to describe me to his sister, but would rather she would
take her own impression of me; and, as much as possible,
I wish to do the same by him. I presume that, to
many of my friends, he will be nothing, and they will
not understand that I should have life in common with
- ↑ Giovanni Angelo Ossoli.
