Wednesday.
September 18, 1845.
Of course you cannot do otherwise than go with your sister — or it will be ‘Every man out of his humour’ perhaps — and you are not so very ‘savage’ after all.
On Monday then, if you do not hear — to the contrary.
Papa has been walking to and fro in this room, looking thoughtfully and talking leisurely — and every moment I have expected I confess, some word (that did not come) about Pisa. Mr. Kenyon thinks it cannot end so — and I do sometimes — and in the meantime I do confess to a little ‘savageness’ also — at heart! All I asked him to say the other day, was that he was not displeased with me — and he wouldn’t; and for me to walk across his displeasure spread on the threshold of the door, and moreover take a sister and brother with me, and do such a thing for the sake of going to Italy and securing a personal advantage, were altogether impossible, obviously impossible! So poor Papa is quite in disgrace with me just now — if he would but care for that!
May God bless you. Amuse yourself well on Saturday. I could not see you on Thursday any way, for Mr. Kenyon is here every day . . . staying in town just on account of this Pisa business, in his abundant kindness . . .. On Monday then.
Ever yours,
E.B.B.