[Boston—Wednesday, 12 February 1868]
Feb 12. We had a real sorrow last night. Mary Dodge whom we have known so well and sincerely loved has seen fit to withdraw her friendship—and without a word, only a little note refusing to explain. She has thought she could make more money from her books but instead of talking her affairs over in a gentle way with J. has thrown up the whole matter. It has hurt us both. Not that we care for the money but to think she could (or anyone but a maid-servant could) be so forgetful of all she owes to another who has been a true and steadfast friend.
Ah! It is not easy to live well in the world! I have written her a farewell note of two pages but J. thinks we should do well to say nothing for a week that we may speak dispassionately when we do speak so I have laid my note aside.
Longfellow dropped in last night on his way to see the tableing and made us a cheery little call. He is to have a “Dante evening” again tonight. Also a dear affectionate letter came to me from Dickens yesterday. Nobody in Boston has as many blessings as I, I think sometimes, but this action of Mary’s has made me sad.
