[Postmark: May 29, 1846]
Friday.
My own darling, your little note was a great delight to
me last night, when I expected nothing ; and though I do not
hear to-day, I will believe you are well after the walk— the
walk, what a ‘ divine fancy ‘ ; not mentioned by Quarles !
And then the words that follow the good news of the
walk . . those assurances . . oh, my best, dearest Ba, — it is
all right that I cannot speak here, — if I could, by some
miracle, speak, it would be foolish : — but my life lies before
you to take and direct, and keep or give away, — I am altogether
your own.
I come in rather tired from Town — having spent the
morning at the Exhibition, and made calls beside. (Etty’s
picture of the sirens is abominable ; though it looks admirable
beside another picture of his : did I not tell you he had
chosen the sirens for a subject ?)
Oh, dearest beyond all dearness, now, at this moment
only, your last and pro tempore best letter comes to me !
One can’t scold and kiss at the same time . . so let the
wretched Post arrangements be unmentioned for the
moment ; there is enough to get up a revolution about, I do
think ! But you, you spoil me and undo me almost, — ought
to do so, at least, — they were too delicious to bear, the
things you say to me ! Why will you not say rather what I
feel, — for you can, perhaps, being what you are, — and let
me subscribe it ! It is a real pain to me to feel as I feel,
and speak no more than I speak.
And again the time urges . . just when I want most to
go on writing — but to-morrow I will do nothing else. Take
this now, sweet, sweet Ba, with my whole heart that loves,
loves you !
your R.