But to give up Arabel is impossible.

Henrietta is in Somersetshire; it is uncertain whether I shall see her, even in going, and she too might come to Paris this winter.

And you will come--you promised, I think ?...
I feel here _near enough_ to England, that's the truth.

I recoil from the bitterness of being nearer.

Still, it must be thought of.
Dearest cousin, dearest friend, in all this pleasant journey we have borne you in mind, and gratefully! You must feel _that_ without being told.