If I could but go out, there would be no difficulties; but I am shut up in my winter prison, in spite of the extraordinarily mild weather, through having suffered so much in the beginning of the winter.
I asked Sarianna; she also shrinks from the responsibility; is afraid of not pleasing you, &c.

The end of it all is that Mrs.Haworth will think us all very disobliging barbarians, and that really I am vexed.

Why not ask Mrs.Cochrane to get the thing for you?
You can but ask, at any rate.
I am very anxious just now about dear Mr.Kenyon, who has been alarmingly ill, and is only better, I fear.

Miss Bayley wrote to tell me, and added that he was going to Cowes when he could move, which pleases me; for only change of air and liberation from London air can complete his convalescence.
For the rest, I am busy beyond description; but never too much so, mind, dear Fanny, to be glad to get your letters.

Write soon.