[Postmark: July 3, 1846]
Friday Morning.
I am forced to say something now which you will not
like and which I, for my part, hate to say — but you shall
judge how impossible it is for me to see you to-morrow.
The visitors did not come last night ; and as this
morning we expected them hourly, the post brought a letter
instead, to the effect that they were to arrive just on Saturday
. . leaving us to calculate the time of arrival between one
p.m. to five or six. If at one, . . Papa will be in the house
and likely to stay in it all day after . . which would be a
complication of disadvantages for us, and if at three . .
why even so, my aunt would ‘ admire ‘ a little the reason of
my not seeing her at once, and there would be questions
and answers a faire fremir. So dearest dearest, I must try
to live these two days more without seeing you — and
indeed it will be hard work — the very light of the sun to-morrow,
let it be ever so bright a sun, will only reproach
the day with what it ought to have been . . our day, instead
everybody’s day or nobody’s day, a poor, blank, dreary
day. What, when the clock is at three. . . oh what will
keep me, I wonder, from being sullen to my aunt and sulky
to my cousin ? They will think me (if my ministering angel
should not throw me some hallowing thought of you, best
beloved !) considerably fallen off in the morale, however the
improvement may be of the bodily health — I shall be as
cross, as cross . . well, if I am less than cross, you must be
right after all, and I, ‘ une femme miraculeuse ‘ without
illusion ! It is too bad, too bad. The whole week — from
Monday to Monday ! And I do not positively fix even
Monday, though I hope for Monday : — but Monday may
be taken from us just as Saturday is, and the Hedleys are
to come on Tuesday . . only not to this house. I wish
they were all at Seringapatam.
Do not mind it however. Yes, mind it a little, . .
Robert ! but not overmuch — because the day shall not be
lost utterly — I shall take care. I will be on the watch for
half-days when people go out to shop . . that solemn
business of life, . . and we will have our lost day back
again . . you will see. But I could not get to Mrs.
Jameson’s this morning, not being quite well enough. It is
nothing as illness, — I tell you the truth, dear — and even
now I feel better than I did in the early morning. It was
only just enough to prevent my going. And if I had gone
I should not have seen you — you would not go in time —
you would not perhaps even have my letter in time. The
stars are against us for the moment, it seems.
Write to me, think of me, love me. You shall hear on
Saturday and on Sunday, and we will settle about Monday.
After all, it would have been difficult to have met you at
Mrs. Jameson’s, observing the ‘ fitness of things ‘ :—and as
I am subject to the madness of saying ‘ Robert ‘ without
knowing it … !
May God bless you. Say how you are ! Don’t let me
slide out of your mind through this rift in the rock. I
catch at the jutting stones.
I am your own Ba.