His inability to
believe evil is something incredible, and so has come all this
suffering.... But you see why I have not written. This has drawn on my
life,--my heart's blood. He is myself; I know you are the kind of
woman to understand me when I say I felt a blow at him more than at
myself. I who know his purity, honor, delicacy, know that he has been
from childhood of an ideal purity,--who reverenced his conscience as
his king, whose glory was redressing human wrong, who spoke no
slander, no, nor listened to it.... My brother's power to console is
something peculiar and wonderful. I have seen him at deathbeds and
funerals, where it would seem as if hope herself must be dumb, bring
down the very peace of Heaven and change despair to trust. He has not
had less power in his own adversity....
Well, dear, pardon me for this outpour. I loved you,--I love you,--and
therefore wanted you to know just what I felt....
This friendship was one that greatly enlisted Mrs. Stowe's sympathies
and enriched her life. Her interest in any woman who was supporting
herself, and especially in any one who found a daily taskmaster in the
pen, and above all when, as in this case, the woman was one possessed
of great moral aspiration half paralyzed in its action because she
found herself in an anomalous and (to the world in general) utterly
incomprehensible position, made such a woman like a magnet to Mrs.
Stowe. She inherited from her father a faith in the divine power of
sympathy, which only waxed greater with years and experience.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193