E.B.B. to R.B.
Tuesday Evening.
[Post-mark, September 9, 1846.]
I write a word to say, ... dearest, do not run any risk about coming to-morrow. I mean, ... unless you are sure that the noise and exertion will not be too much for you,—unless, when the moment comes for setting off, you feel equal to it ... now, I do beseech you, very dear, not to persist in coming because you have said that you will come—I beseech you. Listen. At three o’clock I shall expect you doubtfully; at half-past three, the doubt will be the strongest; and at a quarter to four, I shall have said to myself cheerfully, that you were wise and good and had determined to stay at home. In that case, I shall have a line from you by five or six! Understand all this, and let it have the right influence and no more. Of course if I could see you without harm to yourself, and so to me, it would be a great happiness: it even makes me happy to think of, as a bare possibility, at this distance off! I am happy by your letter, twice over, indeed—once, for that reason, ... and again, for the thought of your being in some respects better. At the same time I do not see why your wise man did not follow his plan to the end. It looks as if he did not think you better essentially because of it. Ah well, I shall see with my eyes to-morrow—perhaps I shall: and I shall see in a dream to-night more certainly.
This shall go at once, though, that it may reach you in time in the morning. How I thank you for the precious note! You are so much too good to me, that your being also too dear is an excusable consequence—or would be, if it were possible. I write nonsense, I believe,—but it is half for gladness ... and half ... for what makes me your own
Ba.
E.B.B. to R.B.
Wednesday Night.
[Post-mark, September 10, 1846.]
Dearest, you are a prophet, I suppose—there can be no denying it. This night, an edict has gone out, and George is to-morrow to be on his way to take a house for a month either at Dover, Reigate, Tunbridge, ... Papa did ‘not mind which,’ he said, and ‘you may settle it among you!!’ but he ‘must have this house empty for a month in order to its cleaning’—we are to go therefore and not delay.
Now!—what can be done? It is possible that the absence may be longer than for a month, indeed it is probable—for there is much to do in painting and repairing, here in Wimpole Street, more than a month’s work they say. Decide, after thinking. I am embarrassed to the utmost degree, as to the best path to take. If we are taken away on Monday ... what then?
Of course I decline to give any opinion and express any preference,—as to places, I mean. It is not for my sake that we go:—if I had been considered at all, indeed, we should have been taken away earlier, ... and not certainly now, when the cold season is at hand. And so much the better it is for me, that I have not, obviously, been thought of.