Day: May 28, 2018

[Postmark: May 28, 1846]

Thursday.

There is a long four days more of waiting — I feel more
and more and ever more how, wanting you, my life wants all
it can have. Dear Ba, never wonder that I fancy at times such
an event’s occurrence as you tell me I need not fear. I shall
always fear, — never can I hold you sufficiently fast, I shall
think. So, if my jewel must be taken from me, let some eagle
stoop down for it suddenly, baffling all human precaution, as I
look on my treasure on a tower’s top miles and milesinland, —
don’t let me have to remember, though but in a minute of life
afterwards, that I let it drop into the sea through foolishly
balancing it in my open hand over the water. There is one of
Ba’s ‘myths,’ excepting all Ba’s felicitousness of application
and glory of invention, — but then it has all my own love and
worship of Ba’s self, all I care to be distinguished by.

I hope you go out this fine morning — the wind is cold,
to be sure, but London is much warmer than this place,
and the wind kept off by the houses. I have got two of Mr.
Kenyon’s kind notes, to confirm the appointment for Wednesday
(when Mrs. Jameson is to be of the party), and to
invite me to meet Landor on Tuesday — so that for three
days running I shall be in Ba’s very neighbourhood . . for if
the wind can’t get through houses and walls, Ba can and does,
as my heart knows. Might I not see you for a moment on
the Wednesday ? Ah, there will be time to contrive, to
concert — but the worst is that when I see you I contrive
nothing, nor do you help me, you Ba ! Else, out of these
walks, — who is to object to my going to see the Thames
Tunnel or the Tower, by way of Wimpole Street, — wanting
the organ of locality as I am said to ? Whereas I am all one
consciousness of the influence of one locality, turning as my
whole heart and soul turn to Ba, — my dearest, dearest,
whom may God bless and requite. I can only kiss you, as
I do, and be your very own, my Ba, as I am and shall be
ever.

[Postmark: May 28, 1846]

Thursday Morning.

Dearest it is my fancy to write quickly this morning and
take my letter to the post myself. Oh, I shall do it this time
— there will be no obstacle. The office is just below Hodgson’s,
the bookseller’s. And so with this letter, please to
understand that I go to you twice and wholly, once in the
spirit, and again in the body.

But there is nothing to tell you, except that I think of
you with the thought which never can change essentially,
while it deepens always. What I meant to say yesterday
was simply, that I, knowing that, should be ‘ bad ‘ if I could
fail practically to myself and you. I have known from the
beginning the whole painful side of what is before me, also
. . I should have no excuse therefore for any weakness in
any fear. Should I not be ‘ bad ‘ then, and more unworthy
of you than even according to my own account, if the obstacle
came from me ? It never can. Remember to be sure of it.

A change of feeling indeed would be a different thing,
and we think exactly alike on the fit consequences of it.
Which change is however absolutely impossible in my
position and to me, ‘ for reasons . . for reasons ‘ . . . . you
guess at some of them, some are spoken, and others cannot
be.

In one word for all, life seems to come to me only through
you.

I am your very own.

Ba.