What ‘tired’ you, dearest? You are not less well, I trust? Pray tell me,—and remember there are three days before our Saturday. I am very much better—the walking and riding of this morning did me good, too—and what profits it, if you are not better also? Love me in caring for yourself, which is my truest self! And I will go on and try to love you more than I do—for what may happen?
Ever your own R.
E.B.B. to R.B.
Thursday Evening.
[Post-mark, July 24, 1846.]
No letter for me to-night! not a word!—Perhaps the post is sinning again. If so, I shall hear to-morrow morning, if not ... may it be anything rather than that you are more unwell than usual! anything!
There is not much to say on my part. I had a letter from Miss Mitford this morning, and she encloses to me ... you will not guess what—a lyric of the ubiquitous Bennett—the ‘Mignonette.’ Are you not amused? That’s the way to ‘agitate’ for readers and praisers. She sees something in Bennett. He is to be ‘heard of in our literature.’ She shed tears over the ‘Mignonette,’ herself—
Your portrait of Victor Hugo, I like less and less—there is something ignoble in the face—and even the forehead is rather big than large. He does not ‘look like a poet’ in any case—now does he?
Dearest, did I annoy you ... frighten you, ... about Wilson yesterday? Did that prevent you from writing to me to-day—if really you did not write to me to-day? It yet was the merest question, ... I wished you to understand—the merest question for a yes or a no—and I shall not mind, however you may answer, be certain. I have been thinking to-day that it would be possible enough to leave a direction which might supply everything, and so escape inflicting the injury apprehended—yes, and as for myself, I shall manage perfectly. Observe how I pinned your coat, miraculously pricking you at the same moment. I shall do for myself and by myself, as well as possible. And therefore, judge, speak your thoughts out to the purpose and without drawback. I shall always feel to thank you for speaking the truth, even where it goes against me. But this will not go against me, however you speak it, ... understand.
And as for what my sisters think, it is nothing to the purpose. Say your ‘no,’ and they never shall hear it. I will avoid the subject from henceforth, with them ... that is all.
And take care of Mr. Kenyon to-morrow. I feel afraid of Mr. Kenyon. But take care of yourself most—look well that you never let me do, in the least or greatest matter, what would seem better undone hereafter. Not in the least, not in the greatest. For me, if I am to be thought of, remember that you kill me, if you suffer me to injure you. That is for me.