My dear Hooker

I have been pained at a mistake which I have made.¹ In a letter from Huxley, I misunderstood him that poor dear Henslow was dead, & I inferred that he had seen you & that you were at Kew. I believe & hope that this is all a blunder of mine.— But I wrote to Kew, thinking that you were there, & I fear that M^rs Hooker may have opened my note. This has pained. I much wish to hear how Henslow is going on. I cannot avoid hoping that he may be rallying, or is it really all over.—

But you must be worn out with nursing, so do not write. I know well how even writing a direction is intolerable sometimes. I go to London on Tuesday & daresay I shall hear news there.²

My dear old friend | Yours affect^y. | C. Darwin