[Postmark: July 20, 1846]
Monday Evening.
Certainly you do know me, my own Ba, beyond all other
knowledge possible to relatives, — that I know — in fact, I
found myself speaking unwarily on a subject where speech
is obliged to stop abruptly — the fault was mine for bringing
up terms, remarks &c. quite inapplicable out of this house, —
where all, as you understand, have seen me so long that
they do not see differences in me, — increases or diminutions ;
I am twice as blind, most likely, to them, after the same
fashion. Still, one is slow to concede an excuse to such
blindness — hence the ‘ hasty words ‘ I told you they charge
me with uttering.
I apprehend no danger from that, to your feeling for me —
it is your own speech my Ba, which I will take from you,
and use — my own general short-comings, you will inevitably
see and be sorry for — but there will be the more need
of your love, which I shall go on asking for daily and nightly
as if I never could have enough — which is the exact
fact ; and also, I shall grow fitter through the love to be
what you would have me, so the end may be better than the
beginning, let us hope.
Will you not do what you can with me who am your
very own ? as you are my own too, but for a different end
— I am yours to operate on, as you are my only lady to
dispose of what belongs to you. Dear, dearest Ba, it is so ;
will ever be so !
Yes, that notice by Chorley is very kind and gratifying.
I wanted — (quite apart from the poor good to me or my
books — but for Chorley’s own sake, I rather wanted) — some
decided streak of red, or spot, or spark, — some life in the
increasing grey of the ashes — this is true, live lovingness of
him — I will tell him so.
For Domett’s letter, — he means, by all that nonsense, that
my health is more in his estimation than any works producible
at its expense. All the calculation about so many
lines a day, so many a month &c., he knows to be absurd . .
you can’t write ‘ so many lines to-day,’ and add next day’s
complement, and so ‘ grow to an end ‘ — any more than you
can paint a picture by thumb-breadths. The other paragraph
about intelligibility laughs at itself all the time . . is
not to be taken for serious.
Indeed I did desire with a great desiring that you should
go out, and now I thank you for all the good account of the
walk, and victory over the wind : and how kind that sister
is ! — I shall never forget it.
My own head, since you will be teazed with intelligence
about it, was not very well yesterday, but is better decidedly
this morning — I, too, will go and put this letter in the post
and think of to-morrow . . for do not I keep to-morrow ?
I shall be with you unless another order comes . . may it
be averted ! And may you be happy always with me, as I
shall be through you . . nay, but half as happy, dearest Ba,
my very own !
Your R.