All lie, diffused, intermingled in that vast Space
which has No Name; like the winds and light of yesterday, which came and
gave pleasure for a moment, and now have changed and left us, forever.
In contrast with this apocryphal attachment stands out his deep and
unalterable love for his sister Mary. "God love her," he says; "may we two
never love each other less." They never did. Their affection continued
throughout life, without interruption; without a cloud, except such as
rose from the fluctuations of her health. It is said that a woman rises or
falls with the arm on which she leans. In this case, Mary Lamb at all
times had a safe support; an arm that never shook nor wavered, but kept
its elevation, faithful and firm throughout life.
It is difficult to explain fully the great love of Charles for his sister,
except in his own words. Whenever her name occurs in the correspondence,
the tone is always the same; always tender; without abatement, without
change. "I am a fool" (he writes) "bereft of her cooperation. I am used to
look up to her in the least and biggest perplexities. To say all that I
find her, would be more than I think anybody could possibly understand.
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