But, dearest Cleone,
I forbid you to grieve for me, I am man enough, I hope,
to endure my miseries uncomplainingly, as a man and a gentleman
should. Chichester, with his unfailing kindness, has offered me
an asylum at his country place near Headcorn, where I hope to
regain something of my wonted health. But for Chichester I
tremble to think what would have been my fate long
before this. At Headcorn I shall at least be nearer you,
my best of sisters, and it is my hope that you may be
persuaded to steal away now and then, to spend an hour
with two lonely bachelors, and cheer a brother's solitude.
Ah, Cleone! Chichester's devotion to you is touching, such
patient adoration must in time meet with its reward. By
your own confession you have nothing against him but
the fact that he worships you too ardently, and this, most
women would think a virtue. And remember, he is your
luckless brother's only friend. This is the only man who
has stood by me in adversity, the only man who can help
me to retrieve the past, the only man a truly loving sister
should honor with her regard. All women are more or
less selfish.
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