being your own, own R.
One more day—one, and Monday!
(See what kindness of Mr. Kenyon! I do not accept, having no need to trouble him as he desires—but see how kind.)
E.B.B. to R.B.
Saturday.
[Post-mark, May 30, 1846.]
You shall have a visit from me on the seventh day as on the others, I think, because I remember you every day equally, and because, without waiting for your Saturday’s letter, I have always with me enough of you, to thank you. This morning, Henrietta and I went as usual to Hodgson’s and took possession of the chair in waiting, as Flush did of the whole territory, setting himself, with all the airs of a landed proprietor, to snap at the shop boy. Nota bene—Flush is likely to injure my popularity if I take him about with me much. He has been used, you see, to be ‘Cæsar in his own house,’ and the transition to being Cæsar everywhere is the easiest thing in the world. Yet as to leaving him at home, it is impossible, ... not to mention other objections! His delight in going out in the carriage is scarcely a natural thing—but I have told you of it. Yesterday I was in the back drawing-room waiting to go out, and just said to him, ‘Flush! go and see if the carriage is come’—instantly he ran to the front windows, standing on his hind legs and looking up the street and down. Now Mr. Kenyon would declare that that was my invention. Yet it is the literal truth of history.
Coming back from Hodgson’s, we passed our door and walked to 57 and home, which is an improvement in the distance. Then I walked up-stairs to the drawing-room, and was carried the rest of the way. May I be tired a little, after it all? Just a little, perhaps.
Henrietta dined at Mr. Lough’s yesterday, and met Miss Camilla Toulmin who was gracious ... and Professor Forbes, who can do nothing without the polka, ... and sundries. There was a splendid dinner, and wine of all vintages—one is in a strait in such cases to know how to praise at once the hospitable intentions and to blame the bad taste—surely it is bad taste in a man like Mr. Lough who lives by his genius, to give ambitious dinners like a man who lives by his dinners. The true dignity of simplicity in these things were worth such a man’s holding, one might think. But he is kind and liberal, and a good artist, ... and sent me a very gracious invitation to go and see his works.
The Hedleys are likely to be in England this summer again— —more’s the pity. I am fond of them, but would rather, rather, not see them just now, and not be seen by them—for eyes have they, and can see. My uncle Hedley comes next week, ... comes to London for several weeks ... that is certain—and my aunt after settling the younger part of her family at Baréges for the summer, ponders coming, ... as I behold from afar off, ... with her daughter Arabella, who is to be married immediately to the younger brother of the great Brewery partner, Barclay and Bevan, a Mr. Bevan. But they will not be in this house, and we must manage as we can, dearest! One leap over Sunday, and Monday comes bringing you! Then, I shall have you near on Tuesday besides, and Wednesday, afterwards! how the cup overflows! May God bless you my beloved! It is not exaggeration to say that I feel you in the air and the sun.