Major paused; read what she had written; without so much as
a sigh tore the sheet and started afresh. That "something stronger
than myself makes me" she felt to be a mistake. Something decidedly
stronger than herself sat in the quartern bottle a few inches from her
nose, and it occurred to her that a cruel mind might thus interpret
her meaning. She tore the sheet. This was a masterly woman.
"I dare not even begin 'Dear Mr. Marrapit.' I have forfeited the right
even to address you; but in the moment of your tribulation I feel that
I must come forward with my sympathy. Oh, Mr. Marrapit, may I say with
my aid? I feel I could help you if only I might come to dear, dear
Herons' Holt. When I think of my angel darling Rose of Sharon straying
far from the fold my heart bleeds. Oh, Mr. Marrapit, I cannot rest, I
cannot live, while my darling is wandering on the hillside, or is
stolen, and I am unable to search for her. Oh, Mr. Marrapit, think of
me, I implore you, not as Mrs. Major, but as one whom your sweet
darling Rose loved. If the Rose is anywhere near Herons' Holt, she
would come to me if I called her, I feel sure, more readily than she
would come to anyone else except yourself, and you are not strong
enough to search as I would search. Oh, Mr. Marrapit, let me come to
Herons' Holt in this terrible hour.
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