From H. E. Litchfield to Emma Darwin 15 May 1882

My own dear Mother—

Your letter has come & filled my heart— It is so sweet of you to tell me again how Father cared for my being at Down—& nothing you could say would make me happier— I cannot help still having bitter regrets for all the precious time I wasted—often sitting about down stairs when I might have gone up & have had little bits with you upstairs.

But I hope he did know how much I loved him—& though I shall never forget the memory of things I said which vexed him & to feel how much keener I might have been to watch for the things which pleased him, I hope that the sweetness & magnanimity of his nature prevented him from remembering them. I have a storehouse of the sweetest looks & words to remember.

It makes me so happy, dear Mother, to have you say that you care to tell me every thing. I do think of you so much day & night & the thought is so often present to me of what it must be to you to have no one to tell things to. I know we cannot fill the gap—but it is such a blessed feeling to me that you do care for my love, & that you will lean upon it. I think you hardly know how precious you are to us. I sometimes feel such a passionate wish to cherish & comfort you—almost as if you were my child as well as my dearest Mother.

Thank you for sending me W's letter— I like to see what he says so much.