Greetings my dearest sister, Julia!
I am delighted in your visitation of our rather dejected close friend. I hope that by your time spent will be none other than appease her low spirits. Upon hearing your parading her about, I would like to extend my anxieties and forewarnings. In all due respect, these soirée scenarios are not the sort of situation our sister ought to be subjected too. While she is in need of socialization, these are the same locations which have led to her current predicament.
I feel the greatest amounts of concern! With the loss of both the Reverend Boyer and the contemptuous Major Sanford, who knows where her desires for consolation will thus lead her? While the longing for male acceptance is indeed the object of the female desire, a reputation tarnished in forever tarnished. This I have previously explained to our sister; yet, it appears to go upon deaf ears. Nevertheless, she will learn for herself—and I just wish that she would but heed my wise advice.
Whilst she does proceed from a sadden case with the death of her late husband, she had an ample opportunity with the Reverend. I informed her to follow in my footsteps, to throw aside Major Sanford and marry as I have. Is this life not good enough? What is wrong with the ways of other fine women? According to our beloved sister, she fears her loss of independence. Yet, her poor choices have, rather ironically, resulted in her loss of freedom. What esteemed man will take a coquette to bed?
Most sorrowfully, I shalt share with you a nightmarish dream I had most recently. Never, of course, express this to another. I saw our sister with an infant. However, instead of this being a moment of joy, the scene was dreary, dark, and agonizing to perceive. Alone with her child, she sat rocking, humming a heartbreaking ballad. From the chair she sat, a large window permitted passerbyers to gaze in. With each passing man or woman, a chilling draft rushed into the room stinging the abandoned woman whom did nothing other then shielding her child from the nasty jeers and frigid iciness. I, passing by this window, looked upon the faces of the tormentors, their heartless comments piercing me. Pressing myself against the glass, I cried, “Eliza! Eliza! I’m here! I’m here!” She did not look up, merely held the child and looked at the boards in the floor. Then, a man opened the door to the room. A light glimmered with his countenance. The father, I assumed, my heart began to swell with optimism. Maybe she will be taken care of—carried away and given a real home! But instead, he takes from behind him—a knife! Clutching her babe, he pushes the small being to the floor, rolling out of his swaddling blankets. A scream from both mother and child to raise the dead erupts. Bending to collect the babe, the uncaring man thrusts the dagger into her backside. Rather then acting to stop the man, the tormentors remained motionless—allowing the man to repeatedly stab my childhood friend. Desperate, I looked around for something to break the glass. I had to stop this madman! Finding a smithy nearby, I grabbed an iron tool and raced back to the window. By that time, I saw the man was picking up the child and walking back through the door, shutting it on his way out. Hitting the panes of glass with the metal object, I was unable to break the glass. By that time, I was no use anyways. Through the prison panes, I saw the sister’s lifeless body lying for the world to see. Dropping my tool, I fell to my knees. The crowd recommenced their ridiculing laughter. Shocked and hysterical, I laid the remainder of my body to the cement ground. There I lay until I awoke.
I cannot insist enough of your protecting of our sister more! I pray, please keep her safe and encourage her correspondence with me. I shall promote her altering her ways before it is too late. These horrors are something I expect never to occur. Nonetheless, it is only for her benefit I implore!
Bless you and keep in your prayers your friend forever,
Lucy Sumner