Thursday.
July 31, 1845.
In all I say to you, write to you, I know very well that I trust to your understanding me almost beyond the warrant of any human capacity – – but as I began, so I shall end. I shall believe you remember what I am forced to remember – – you who do me the superabundant justice on every possible occasion, – – you will never do me injustice when I sit by you and talk about Italy and the rest.
– – To-day I cannot write – – though I am very well otherwise – – but I shall soon get into my old self-command and write with as much ‘ineffectual fire’ as before: but meantime, you will write to me, I hope – – telling me how you are? I have but one greater delight in the world than in hearing from you.
God bless you, my best, dearest friend – – think what I would speak – –
Ever yours
R.B.