To Miranda.
I was so delighted to receive your sweet letter to-day; and quite like a child in my delight at the bags. They are pretty, and the letters exactly what I wanted. We pinned some paper ones on on Tuesday; and they all came off, to the great confusion of the money. Also these nice letters give a kind of individuality which I do like in a bag, or a cup, or anything I use.
Larksfield,
August 15th, 1889.
To Mr. S. Cockerell.
I have never thought the world’s regard, or money-success, or worldly surroundings worth anything; and, when they fall away from us, I think that it is often that they may leave us freer to enter into realities.
OCTAVIA’S FEELING TO RUSKIN
December 7th, 1889.
To Mr. S. Cockerell.
I return the valuable letter with many thanks to Olive and to you for letting me see it. I had not done so before. I think he is right about the forgiveness; and I think it is hard that any of you should expect a man, who had the place in the world that he had when he knew me as a girl of not fifteen years, should ask forgiveness. Not for a moment do I myself wish it, unless in any way it took away from him the sadness of the memory of what he did. I tell you, most distinctly, I do not think there is very much in the whole affair; that is, when the imperfections of earth and speech are taken away, I do not think that there will be very much to clear up between Mr. Ruskin and me. Till that time, touched as I am by your chivalrous kindness about it, I do seriously assure you I think a merciful silence is at once the best and the most dignified course, for him and me. What has the world to do with it, if we both feel silence all that is needed? There are things that nothing will ever put right in this world; and yet they don’t really touch what is right for all worlds.