Wednesday Morning.
July 9, 1845.
You are all that is good and kind: I am happy and thankful the beginning (and worst of it) is over and so well. The Park and Mr. Kenyon’s all in good time – – and your sister was most prudent – – and you mean to try again: God bless you, all to be said or done – – but, as I say it, no vain word. No doubt it was a mere chance-thought, and à propos de bottes of Horne – – neither he or any other can know or even fancy how it is. Indeed, though on other grounds I should be all so proud of being known for your friend by everybody, yet there’s no denying the deep delight of playing the Eastern Jew’s part here in this London – – they go about, you know by travel-books, with the tokens of extreme destitution and misery, and steal by blind ways and by-paths to some blank dreary house, one obscure door in it – – which being well shut behind them, they grope on through a dark corridor or so, and then, a blaze follows the lifting a curtain or the like, for they are in a palace-hall with fountains and light, and marble and gold, of which the envious are never to dream! And I, too, love to have few friends, and to live alone, and to see you from week to week. Do you not suppose I am grateful?
And you do like the ‘Duchess,’ as much as you have got of it? that delights me, too – – for every reason. But I fear I shall not be able to bring you the rest to-morrow – – Thursday, my day – – because I have been broken in upon more than one morning; nor, though much better in my head, can I do anything at night just now. All will come right eventually, I hope, and I shall transcribe the other things you are to judge.
To-morrow then – – only (and that is why I would write) do, do know me for what I am and treat me as I deserve in that one respect, and go out, without a moment’s thought or care, if to-morrow should suit you – – leave word to that effect and I shall be as glad as if I saw you or more – – reasoned gladness, you know. Or you can write – – though that is not necessary at all, – – do think of all this!
I am yours ever, dear friend,
R.B.