[Postmark: July 13, 1846]
Sunday. 6 P.M.
Ever, ever dearest, I have to feel for you all through Sunday, and I hear no sound and see no light. How are you? how did you get home yesterday? I thought of you more than usual after you went, if I did not love you as much as usual . . . What could that doubt have been made of?
Dearest, I had a letter last night from Mrs. Jameson, who says that on Tuesday or Wednesday at about four o’clock (though she is as little sure of the hour apparently as of the day), she means to come to see me. Now you are to consider whether this grand peutêtre will shake our Tuesday, . . whether you would rather take Thursday instead, or will run the risk as it appears. I am ready to agree, either way. She is the most uncertain of uncertain people, and may not come at all . . it’s a case for what Hume used to call sceptical scepticism. Judge! Then I have heard (I forgot to tell you) from Mr. Home – and . . did you have two letters last week from your Bennet? . . because I had, – flying leaves of ‘Mignonette,’ and other lyrical flowers.
When you had gone Arabel came to persuade me to go to the park in a cab, notwithstanding my too lively recollections of the last we chanced upon, – and I was persuaded, and so we tumbled one over another (yet not all those cabs are so rough!) to the nearest gate opening on the grass, and got out and walked a little. A lovely evening it was, but I wished somehow rather to be at home, and Flush had his foot pinched in shutting the cab-door, . . and altogether there was not much gain: – only, as for Flush’s foot, though he cried piteously and held it up, looking straight to me for sympathy, no sooner had he touched the grass than he began to run without a thought of it. Flush always makes the most of his misfortunes – he is of the Byronic school – il se pose en victime.
Now I will not write any more – I long to have my letter of to-morrow morning – I long to have it . . Shall I not have it to-morrow morning? This is posted by my hand.
I loved you yesterday . . I love you to-day . . I shall love you to-morrow.
Every day I am yours.
BA.