But the Goddess Dulness inspires me to write about it and about it, to no end. I say briefly at last, that whatever I have, is mine ... and for use in Italy, as in England. Papa has managed ... has taken a power of attorney, to manage for me kindly ... but everything is in my name—and if it were not, he could not for a moment think of interfering with an incontestable right of property. Still, I do see a difficulty at the beginning—I mean that, as I am here, I could not put my hand out for a large sum, such as would be necessary perhaps. I have had a great deal to pay and do lately,—and the next quarter will not be until the middle of October. Still there would be something, but less than is necessary. We might either wait on the road till the required sum were called for and sent—or get a hundred pounds advanced by someone for a few weeks until everything was settled ... which would be pleasanter, if possible. Poor Papa’s first act will be to abandon his management. Ah, may God grant him to do it rather angrily than painfully.
A letter, I have written to you, like the chiming of two penny pieces—a miserable letter! And there is much to tell you ... but nothing painful ... do not fear. The Hedleys dined here, and Mrs. Hedley has been sitting with me ... keeping me from writing. Good-night now it must be! When you write so of caring to be with me, my heart seems to rock with pleasure. Shouldn’t this letter have been written on ’Change, and isn’t it unworthy of all you are to me ... and even of all I am to you? But such things must be, after a fashion. Have I told you right, dearest? does it make any sense, altogether? You are wise in little subjects as in great ones, and I will let you make me wiser if you can. And there is no clay in dear Mr. Kenyon ... but just the drop in the chrystal you tell me of—only you shall not divine by him, my Druid, or you will sit by yourself under the oak tree to the end of the day!
Wholly yours and ever—in the greatest haste—
R.B. to E.B.B.
Thursday Morning.
[Post-mark, August 6, 1846.]
No, dearest,—the post brought me no letter till early this morning, a few hours before the second arrival: so, in case of any unexpected stoppage in our visit-affairs, if the post can have been to blame, always be sure it is; if I do not arrive at any time when I ought to arrive, having been sent for—there is the great instance and possibility, which you are to remember! However at present, post naufragia tutus sum with my two treasures.
Thank you, dearest, for all that kind care of answering—will you now let me lay it all quietly up in my head to mature, before I ... really think upon it, much more, speak of it? If one can do both once for all, what a blessing! But a little leaven of uncertainty and apprehension, just enough to be tasted bitterly in the whole lump of our life,—that cannot be too diligently guarded against while there is time.
Well, love, your excursion to Kensington was a real good, well purchased by my early going—and I am glad the great event stood before all eyes and mouths. I seem to notice that you do not leave the house quite so often as, say, a month ago; and that you are not the better for it. Of course you cannot go out in storm and rain. Will you do what is best for my Ba, you who say you love me,—that is, love her?
Don’t I sympathize with Horne, and see with his eyes, and want with his senses! But why can he not want after the two months, I ask selfishly—seeing, or fancying I see, this inconvenience ... that, as his report will probably be the latest to the world, it would be advisable for you to look as well as possible,—would it not? It would not do for him to tell people ‘All I can say is, that a few weeks only before it happened, she appeared to me thus and thus’—while, on the other hand, if you receive him in the drawing room,—there are difficulties too.