"Now, love, I have just a moment to spare. I assure you that with the exception of the short time it took to prepare your little dinner, my absence from the shop has not amounted to more than half-an-hour. The dinner was rather late, in consequence of my being detained in the shop. I did not fidget about it, because I felt desirous that you should have time to enjoy it. Oh, my dearest Richard, excuse me, but really I must mention the subject that lays nearest and dearest to my heart first, my separation from you; everything else sinks into nothingness in comparison of that greatest of all evils and troubles and trials--my separation; overcome this point, and I will be happy and cheerful and gay. On the contrary, I am sure, I shall not survive a month. It is nonsense to preach patience and philosophy, I'll not hear it, my patience is exhausted and all my philosophy falls to the ground. All my thoughts, all my hopes tend towards seeing you on Sunday. If I am disappointed, I shall bid farewell to all hope. You must insist upon seeing me just once to explain matters of business, etc., etc. Oh, dear, I will see you. Indeed, I must! Now, love, the second trouble. I have sent to Standige's, and they very politely said £15 would satisfy them until next week. I have sent the £15, so let your mind be at ease on that point. Do, do, Richard, if you love me, obtain me an interview; it will reward me for a world of pain and suffering. You know not how this separation presses upon my heart, and to-morrow--But I will not anticipate anything unfavorable, you, I know dear, you will do your best. I wish I was Miss Newell* for a day or two. Copeland is waiting, love. I send you a _Crisis_ and two oranges, in haste. Bless you. Good night, my beloved, my honored Richard. I hope we shall yet be happy."
* Miss Newell was the artist who painted the portrait of Carlile while in the Compter. She begged and received permission to paint the portraits of Carlile and Rev. Robert Taylor, and gave them each a painting, and kept one of each for herself. Carlile was so pleased with his own that he urged her to paint the portrait of Isis. But this, she said. "was a different matter, and she should require her regular fee of ten guineas". This was agreed upon, and she painted the picture of Isis. These portraits are as fresh and beautiful to-day as they were when painted over 60 years ago, and are copied for this work. Necessarily the copies lose much of the beauty of the painting, as the delicate beauty of the coloring is all lost. It is most noticeable in that of Isis, in whose complexion the purity of the lily and the warmth of the rose were marvellously blended. The abundant hair curled naturally, and was of a soft pale auburn. The eyes a violet blue, with a mild but intelligent expression. The head, features, and face were of perfectly harmonious outline, each part perfect in itself, and perfect as a whole. The figure, too, was naturally perfect, tall, and slender, with a very graceful carriage; shoulders thrown well back and head well poised. Her neck and shoulders were beautifully moulded, and her waist, though innocent of stays or corsets, measured but 18 inches. Her hands were very beautiful, with long slender fingers, and the skin of such delicate texture as to appear transparent. In after years it was a favorite amusement of her children to try and look through their mother's hand by holding it up to the sun or lamp. Add to this that she was well bred, well educated, well read, and possessed of a fine singing and speaking voice. She was very neat and stylish in her dress, and it was no wonder then that she turned the heads of many of the younger men of liberal principles at the Rotunda, when she stepped upon the rostrum to fill the gap made by the imprisonment of Carlile and Rev. Robert Taylor.