Nor did I mean so bad, dearest dearest, as that you were suspecting me of that ... Oh no, since ‘Scorn of me (that “me”) would recoil on you’ ... you would have no right to bear with such a person for a moment: but I put the broadest case possible to declare upon broadly. As I would do so if I felt so ... felt no love longer ... so, in due degree, I would tell you frankly a fear or a doubt if I felt either. I thought you suspected me, perhaps, of being deficient in this last point of courage: but it was not altogether so,—or if it was, you shall doubt no more, but believe the more strongly for the future ... let us kiss on that convention, dearest! You see, I knew it could not but be that ... for if anything had struck you as really to be gained by delay, you must feel whether I should listen to that or no—last year, for instance, when you said ‘let us wait.’
Ah, Ba, my own, many things are that ought not to be ... and I hide nothing ... cannot hide from you some feelings ... as that—after all, after all—talk, and indeed think, as one may—it is, let us say, a pleasant thing, at least, to be able to prove one’s words,—even one’s lighter words. The proof may justify some words, I mean, and the rest, that admit of no proof, get believed on the score of them,—the first words and proofs. I should like to prove a very, very little ... if I could but do so in turning fifty-thousand a year, or less, to some account and building Flush a house ‘fair to see’—after which I could go on talking about the longings never to be satisfied here....
Now this is foolish,—so the causeless blame, if you please, shall be transferred here ... as naughty children punished by mistake are promised a remission of next offence.
Oh to-morrow kisses all right ... all so right again, dearest! I have so much to say. Make me remember, love, to tell you something I have just learned about Mr. Kenyon which makes one—no, all is proper,—he should have the money, and I the admiration and love of his divine use of it: something to love him for, and he happy that God will reward it. Remember—for even that I should forget by you!
And all has been charming at Mr. Kenyon’s—Landor’s dinner, and our flower-show feast,—I will tell you to-morrow—and last night I went to Mrs. Procter’s in downright spirits ‘pour cause’ (with my first letter ... not my second, which only arrived this morning)—and I danced, to put it on record there that I was altogether happy, and saw Mrs. Jameson, and the Countess Hahn-Hahn, and Milnes and the Howitts and others in a multitude,—and I got to this house door at 4 o’clock, with the birds singing loud and the day bright and broad—and my head is quite well,—as my mother’s is better, I hope—quite well, I am at this minute. For the rest, the news of your two exits and entrances in one day ... oh, thank you, thank the golden heart of my own, own Ba! whom I shall see to-morrow, but can ... how I can kiss her now—being her own
R.B.
E.B.B. to R.B.
Sunday.
[Post-mark, June 6, 1846.]
This is the first word I have written out of my room, these five years, I think ... if I dare count anything beyond two ... for I do know that one comes after two ... (now just see what I have written!) that two comes after one, I meant to say, ... as well as a mathematician. I am writing now in the back drawing-room, half out of the window for air, driven out of my own territory by the angel of the sun this morning. Oh—it is so hot—and the darkness does not help when the lack is just of air. There is a thick mist lacquered over with light—it is cauldron-heat, rather than fire-heat. So different in the country it must be! Well, everybody being at church or chapel, I knew I could have this room to myself, without fear even of the dreadful knocker ... more awful to me than the famous knocks which used to visit the Wesley family—so here I curl up my feet ‘more meo’ on the settee, and help to keep the sabbath by resting upon you. Would Miss Goldsmid call it as ‘profane’ as anything in your poems? But it will not be more profane for that—as I could prove if we wanted proofs—only we do not.
Such flowers as you brought me yesterday—such roses! The roses are best, as coming from your garden! When I began to arrange them, I thought I never saw such splendid roses anywhere—they are more beautiful than what you brought last year surely! It seems so to me. Dearest, how did you get home, and how are you? and how is your mother? Remember to answer my questions, if you please.