Friday Evening.
June 28, 1845.
You are very kind and always — but really that does not seem a good reason against your coming to-morrow — so come, if it should not rain. If it rains, it concludes for Monday . . . or Tuesday; whichever may be clear of rain. I was tired on Wednesday by the confounding confusion of more voices than usual in this room; but the effect passed off, and though Miss Mitford was with me for hours yesterday I am not unwell to-day. And pray speak bona verba about the awful things which are possible between this now and Wednesday. You continue to be better, I do hope? I am forced to the brevity you see, by the post on one side, and my friends on the other, who have so long overstayed the coming of your note — but it is enough to assure you that you will do no harm by coming — only give pleasure.
Ever yours, my dear friend,
E.B.B.