Friday Morning.
June 27, 1845.
Let me make haste and write down To-morrow, Saturday, and not later, lest my selfishness be thoroughly got under in its struggle with a better feeling that tells me you must be far too tired for another visitor this week.
What shall I decide on?
Well – – Saturday is said – – but I will stay not quite so long, nor talk nearly so loud as of old-times; nor will you, if you understand anything of me, fail to send down word should you be at all indisposed. I should not have the heart to knock at the door unless I really believed you would do that. Still saying this and providing against the other does not amount, I well know, to the generosity, or justice rather, of staying away for a day or two altogether. But – – what ‘a day or two’ may not bring forth! Change to you, change to me – –
Not all of me, however, can change, thank God – –
Yours ever
R.B.
Or, write, as last night, if needs be: Monday, Tuesday is not so long to wait. Will you write?