"At length, dearest Charles, I can write to you again with my own hand. I could not till yesterday leave Isabella's bedside for an hour. Now, however, she sleeps a great deal, and therefore does not require such constant watching. She is certainly better, much better; but still so weak, that she cannot move a limb. O! I was so glad when her delirium ceased. Weak as she was, she was incessantly attempting to rise, and was never quiet for an instant. Now she lies quite still, generally with her eyes closed, so that we can scarcely tell when she is asleep; but I think she dozes for many hours in the day. She takes very little nourishment yet, but we have got down more to-day than yesterday. Our friends have sent all kinds of delicacies to tempt her, but I do not think she knows one thing from another yet. She opens her eyes: I must go to her. O, dear Charles, she has spoken for the first time since her delirium ceased! I could scarcely understand her. `Are you writing?' she said. `Yes, I am writing to Charles, to tell him you are better.'--`My love to him: I _am_ better.' `May I say you are comfortable now?'--`O yes!' "My hopes have risen much since yesterday; but we must beware of too early hope: there is much to be done yet. I have _trusted_ throughout. I have tried to be hopeful, even while I contemplated the danger. Now that things look brighter, let us hope yet more; I need not say, let us be grateful; I am sure you are, and my own heart is now full of gratitude. Farewell. "Jane Forsyth. "P.S. You shall certainly hear, in a day or two: if not to-morrow, you may conclude that we go on well." Slowly, very slowly, Isabella continued to gain strength, and in three weeks from Jane's last letter, Charles allowed himself to dismiss all apprehensions. At that time, Isabella added two lines to a letter of Jane's, to shew that she _could_ write, though the almost illegible character of the writing shewed how much even this exertion cost her. This was the signal for Charles to write to her, but he wished first to know the opinion of the bookseller to whom he had taken Isabella's little volume. He called at the shop, accordingly, but could obtain no decided answer. The bookseller approved it, on the whole, and thought it might make a very pretty volume, if he could be certain that it would answer the expense of printing handsomely, and so forth. Charles asked him how soon he could make up his mind: he really could not tell, but Charles might call again in a week. Charles agreed to do so, and said that he should wish to have the manuscript back at that time, or a decisive answer. He was sorry not to be able to give Isabella a more satisfactory account of her book; but he had previously warned her that she would probably have need of much patience.