My darling Sybil, this letter is for Grace Lovelyawe, that flower planted in the garden of Joy by Jesus when He first thought it a noble thing to create mankind. You my dear, I miss everyday. This war is drawing to a close and having this thorn upon my conscience I desired to write to our good friend, who is a friend of her Christ much more than I am a friend to Him. Instead of sending this directly to her I thought it wise to send it to you first and then you can pass it on to her. It was a matter to be addressed and God-willing that the sun may smile upon this situation. I shall write a letter to you soon.
Dear Grace, to you I have not been a friend, never once greeted you with a tender kiss. I always met you with a frown and did all I did towards you with a greyish grudge. It is not becoming of me to act such but there is an unseen feeling about you which conjures up such jealous emotions. Perhaps I wish for you to speak in a peculiar way to me which never once met your attitude. With others you displayed a sunshine of zeal but with me, you were as dull as the British rain.
I assumed your hate, and I felt your loathsomeness of my manners the first time your eyes encountered mine. I fell in love as a brother for his sister when both understand the intensity of family union, charmed by all your feminine ways, but my masculinity must have offended you as Jews were offended by gentiles inviting them to eat pork.
In the following days we met fortuitously, equally excited by the same message of grace; but upon recollection it is clear as one views the stars at night when the tired clouds have departed that you never once thought of me as a friend. You saw me as a rival, one who retained a tower of knowledge and influence which by nature would have been naturally yours in our given environment. But your glory was to be shared. My dear friend, I saw you as no rival for I conceived myself to be below you. Your majesty and far superior nature which I had of you made me think and believe that you scorned me. This bad taste of yours which I believed in my heart brought me to look upon you with red bitter eyes. As a consequence I immediately did all I could to quench the fire that marvellously lit up in me whenever I met you. Such flickering flame will only in the end be blown out by your hateful wind. My love for you and desire to know you as a friend and sister were replaced with the stench of unfriendliness.
It is my deep regret that I acted such towards you. You were a rose armed with sharp prickles. Your coldness froze my heart. Look how we have both fallen! I consider that I can only speak of my perception of you and not in actuality until you confess if my readings of you were correct. If there is any grace in Christ, any truth in His death and any hope in His resurrection, that upon your reply I beg that you lay open the truth and blood of your heart, for I could have easily been mistaken and have the error all in my house. I perhaps instead of reading the actual words on the paper have rather foolishly read in-between the lines.
I do repent with groans and sighs like peter, and I have spoken to the Spirit whom I am sure I have offended by my un-loving ways towards a dear sister who has been clothed with all of heaven's grace. I ask for your forgiveness as the scripture commands for you have been blessed with that garment of righteousness. I hope to see you again to plea for grace in person, to be once again melted by your eyes, and to act upon you as a friend, a sister, rather than as an enemy.
With all of Heaven's sunshine