Chapter Text
To Robert Walton, England
December 24, 18—
My dear brother,
No parting has of yet been so bitter to me as this one. But there is some hope in it. I cannot say whether that makes me more or less melancholy. My pack is lighter for want of books, but my soul is heavy with anticipation.
I have also said goodbye to Sybil and am now on a ship bound for London. I am lonely without the company of my books, and lonelier still without my friends, both old and new. I already feel tears gather at the edges of my eyes when I think of them. I depended on Sybil more than I realized to keep me in good spirits. Now that I have the tragedies of La Servetta Muta to dwell on, I find it difficult to think of anything else. It is a consolation to think of her and her husband enjoying the volumes I left them. Truly they have made a Heaven in Hell’s despite, but bless me, I would not trade lives with them for anything.
Please come see me in York as soon as you can. I plan to leave home again in the summer, and if I can convince them of the journey’s merit, I will take George and my boys with me. If my brother the captain would be so good as to conduct us, I intend to fulfill my promise of visiting my dear exiles, and there are a great many things I must do in preparation. My traveling clothes are in a sorry state, to begin with, but I have been told that there is a very capable dressmaker in Venice.
Your affectionate sister,
M. Saville