You must not trust blank places in my list, because many have been, and will be, gradually filled up. After the Tuesday's reading in London, I have two for that same week in the country—Nottingham and Leicester. In the following week I have none; but my arrangements are all at sea as yet, for I must somehow and somewhere do an "Uncommercial" in that week, and I also want to get poor Chauncey's "opinions" to the printer.
This mouldy old roosting-place comes out mouldily as to let of course. I hate the sight of the bygone assembly-rooms, and the Bath chairs trundling the dowagers about the streets. As to to-morrow morning in the daylight!——
I have no cold to speak of. Dolby sends kindest regard.
Mrs. Lehmann.
Office, Wednesday, Feb. 3rd, 1869.
Dear Mrs. Lehmann,
Before getting your kind note, I had written to Lehmann, explaining why I cannot allow myself any social pleasure while my farewell task is yet unfinished. The work is so very hard, that every little scrap of rest and silence I can pick up is precious. And even those morsels are so flavoured with "All the Year Round," that they are not quite the genuine article.
Joachim[28] came round to see me at the hall last night, and I told him how sorry I was to forego the pleasure of meeting him (he is a noble fellow!) at your pleasant table.
I am glad you are coming to the "Murder" on the 2nd of March. (The house will be prodigious.) Such little changes as I have made shall be carefully presented to your critical notice, and I hope will be crowned with your approval. But you are always such a fine audience that I have no fear on that head. I saw Chorley yesterday in his own room. A sad and solitary sight. The widowed Drake, with a certain gincoherence of manner, presented a blooming countenance and buxom form in the passage; so buxom indeed that she was obliged to retire before me like a modest stopper, before I could get into the dining decanter where poor Chorley reposed.
Faithfully yours always.