Sunday, Feb 6, 1881 A bright, beautiful winter day, had full of sadness to me for I am thinking constantly of dear Gertrude where memory grows clearer and more tender to me as the days go by. I live in another world with her here and wish I could stay here and never have to go back to the great remorseless, lonesome city. I have just finished reading Adam Bede and am now reading the "Mill in the Floss" They are wonderful books. She knows what it is to suffer and I love to read of those who know how to suffer. What could be more beautiful than this peaceful winter day. I used to find such days full of delight which now they come to me with something of rest indeed, but yet full of a longing for something gone and of my life that I shall never know on earth again.
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