
I think it must have been my guardian angel that gave thee the "impalpable nudge" to write to me. Thy card has
come to cheer me just at a time when I am feeling unusually low in spirits & discouraged. I have been quite ill all
summer—"over-work," "nervous prostration" & the rest—& in
spite of many weeks of tedious "absolute rest," I am worse & not better, & now I have to go off for I don't know
how long to the Pyrennees, leaving my husband & the two little ones in England. I start tomorrow. The one bright
spot is that mother is going with me. But thy letter has really cheered me—it reminds me that absence is not the
end of everything
& it sings, without the definite words, the "Song of the Open Road." My road has seemed so shut up—I am laid
aside in the midst of all the work I care for—fit for nothing—and oh! the horror of feeling one's
mind, as well as one's physical powers, under an eclipse. I have not been able to read
or study or write or do anything I cared
to all summer long.
But thy remembrance reminds me not to complain, & thy example encourages me to keep sound in spirits—"which is the main thing." Thank thee for writing.
I will write from the Pyrennees in a few days—& I hope I shall not be so egotistic & gloomy. I am sure thee will have seen Alys by this time & that she will have told thee all our news.
Gratefully & lovingly, Mary Costelloe.