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‘St Petersburg, December 18th, 1886.
‘Dear Ann Charlotte,—I arrived here
last night. I can only write a few lines to-day.
My sister is dreadfully ill, though the doctor
assures me that she is better than she was some
days ago. Nothing can be more cruel than
such long, painful, and consuming diseases!
She suffers agonies, can neither sleep nor
breathe properly. . . . I do not know how
long I shall have to remain here. I am
longing much for Faufi (her daughter) and
my work. The journey was very
troublesome and slow.—With fond love to you all,
your devoted friend,
‘Sonia.’
During the long days and nights she spent in
this way beside her sister’s sick-bed, she
naturally brooded over many things. The
thought struck her how things were and how they
might have been. She remembered the golden
dreams with which the two sisters had started
in life, both young, good-looking, highly gifted,
and it struck her how little life had brought
them of the anticipated happiness, though it
had been rich and eventful to both of them.
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