[Postmark: July 24, 1846]
Friday.
Sweet, sweet, sweet Ba, look to be kissed to-morrow till
it hurts you, — punished you ought to be for such a letter !
When the ancients were in doubt about a man’s identity
(the ancient fathers) they called him ‘ aut Erasmus (or
whoever it might be) aut — diabolus ! ‘ — no gradation, no
mean between best and worst ! Or do you think Flush bit me
and inoculated me with super-cynical snappishness ? Well,
I do think I should not have conducted myself as you consider
highly possible, — even if you had made, let me say at
once, the most preposterous of proposals, even that of going
without Wilson, or her substitute. I think and am sure I
should, like a rational being, write all the faster to try and
get you to reconsider the matter — convinced as I should be
that your perfect good sense would, after a few minutes’
examination, see that I could no more take you away without
such assistance than desire you to perform the passage
of the Mont Cenis on foot. Do I not remember that you
intended to be thus accompanied even when your sister was
to be of the party ? But the absolute necessity of what you
fancy I may object to . . it is not that, I complain about —
but of the strange notion, that whenever Fate shall decree
that you say, or do, or think anything, from which I shall
be forced to differ, — my proceedings will needs take this
fashion and colour — I shall ‘ sulk ‘ and say nothing, — or
perhaps turn aside grandly offended and meditative of noble
vengeance ! Oh, Ba, dearest, dearest beyond all words,
come for once and always into the heart which is your own,
and see how full it is of you, and if you say, that does not
prevent the head being weak and acting accordingly, I will
begin exemplifying the very point I want to convince you of
by at once writing and speaking and by every imaginable
means making you know, that the heart does teach the head
better than such foolishness — ought to do it, and does do it !
Do you believe me, Ba, my own ? Or, what nonsense !
Did you wonder at my letter when it did come ? Or did
it come? It was duly posted at Deptford — moreover the
‘ Thursday ‘ at the top was written ‘ Wednesday ‘ — because
all day long I was in that error — having been used to see
you on Mondays, and to calculate my time by the number
of days since I saw you — whence, knowing to my cost that
two days had gone by since such an event, I thought what
I wrote.
Now kiss me, my very own, for an end to every thing —
your doubt and my impudent making the most of it, — for
I do not doubt you, sweetest, truest, best love !
To-morrow brings me to you, Ba, I trust — I will be
careful to-day, never fear your
own devoted R.