think that I’ve fallen in love with Mr. Blake. Could I care for a lank, poor, ugly theologue—named Jonas? As Uncle Mark says, ‘It’s impossible, and what’s more it’s improbable.’

“P.S. It is impossible—but I am horribly afraid it’s true. I’m happy and wretched and scared. He can never care for me, I know. Do you thin I could ever develop into a passable minister’s wife, Anne? And would they expect me to lead in prayer? P G.”