Friday Afternoon.
February 20, 1846.
Here is my Ba’s dearest first letter come four hours after the second, with ‘Mis-sent to Mitcham‘ written on its face as a reason, – – one more proof of the negligence of somebody! But I do have it at last – – what should I say? what do you expect me to say? And the first note seemed quite as much too kind as usual!
Let me write to-morrow, sweet? I am quite well and sure to mind all you bid me. I shall do no more than look in at that place (they are the cousins of a really good friend of mine, Dr. White – – I go for him) if even that – – for to-morrow night I must go out again, I fear – – to pay the ordinary compliment for an invitation to the R.S.’s soirée at Lord Northampton’s. And then comes Monday – – and to-night any unicorn I may see I will not find myself at liberty to catch. (N.B. – – should you meditate really an addition to the ‘Elegant Extracts’ – – mind this last joke is none of mine but my father’s; when walking with me when a child, I remember, he bade a little urchin we found fishing with a stick and a string for sticklebacks in a ditch – – ‘to mind that he brought any sturgeon he might catch to the king’ – – he having a claim on such a prize, by courtesy if not right).
As for Chorley, he is neither the one nor the other of those ugly things. One remembers Regan’s ‘Oh Heaven – – so you will rail at me, when you are in the mood.’ But what a want of self-respect such judgments argue, or rather, want of knowledge what true self-respect is: ‘So I believed yesterday, and so now – – and yet am neither hasty, nor inapprehensive, nor malevolent’ – – what then?
– – But I will say more of my mind – – (not of that) – – to-morrow, for time presses a little – – so bless you my ever ever dearest – – I love you wholly.
R.B.