My dear Mr. and Mrs. Clarke,—An hour before I received your letter, I had been writing your names. We were beginning a list of friends to be asked here on Twelfth Night to see a new play by the Author of “The Lighthouse,” and a better play than that. I honestly assure you that your letter dashed my spirits and made a blank in the prospect.
May you be very happy at Nice, and find in the climate and the beautiful country near it, more than compensation for what you leave here. Don’t forget among the leaves of the vine and olive, that your two green leaves are always on my table here, and that no weather will shake them off.
I should have brought this myself, on the chance of seeing you, if I were not such a coward in the matter of good-bye, that I never say it, and would resort to almost any subterfuge to avoid it.
Mrs. Dickens and Georgina send their kindest regards. Your hearty sympathy will not be lost to me, I hope, at Nice; and I shall never hear of you or think of you without true interest and pleasure. Always faithfully your friend,
