[Manchester—Sunday, 22 July 1866]
Sunday. Thick mist and rain—walked to the beach; a struggling beam of the sun at noon-day showed the far islands, silent, shrouded—very solemn and lonely—as I walked I discerned at length the foot-prints of feet which lay parallel with mine. I looked again—they were my husband’s. Surely this incident was no accident nor was it without signification—so we walk side by side in spirit.
The sunset was full of golden promise, the tips of the apple trees were touched with gold and the surface of the sea shimmered in bright glory but
