[Postmark: August 5, 1846]
Tuesday Evening.
One word or two to-night and no more, let the paper
spread itself as it may. Dearest, it was wise of you,
perhaps, to go to-day. Wisdom was the first to wear sack-
cloth. My aunt, who had just had time to hear of your
being in the house, found my door open, and you were
noticed by a passing jest . . too passing to meet ears in
authority — and I was made to put on my bonnet and go
out in the carriage with our department of the bridal party,
who had come home first, in order to change their costume
into something wearable for comfort . . into gowns which
had not a devil, torturing the wearers with a morbid sense
of flounces. So they came home for that, and we were
vexed and frightened for that reason — and I was taken to
Kensington Gardens to leave some walkers there, and then
to Fenton’s Hotel, to leave my aunt as comforter for
the evening. Altogether, oh, how provoked I was !
But it was wise perhaps. I will not say that it was not
very wise indeed. Papa knows nothing of your having
been here, and Saturday is not far off. Still, to think
of two hours being cut off ; and of the long journey
from New Cross, just for the one hour ! Shall I hear
to-morrow fully, to make up for it, Robert ? And tell
me if you accept Mrs. Jameson’s invitation. And your
head ?
Flush thanks you ! I asked him if he loved you even,
and he wagged his tail. Generally when I ask him that
question he won’t answer at all, — but you have overcome
him with generosity . . as you do me !
I forgot to tell you — There is a letter from Mr. Horne
which makes me vexed a little. He is coming to England,
and says, that, if still I will not see him, he shall bring his
guitar to play and sing for my sisters, leaving the door open
that I may hear up-stairs. What a vexation ! How shall I
escape a checkmate now? He castles his king, and the
next move undoes me. There’s a bishop though to be
played first, for he wants an introduction to Whately, which
I am to write for to Miss Mitford, if I don’t know him
myself.
My consolation for to-day, is, that to-morrow is not
Sunday. In the meanwhile, nothing is talked except of the
glories of Fenton’s Hotel. The bride behaved with the
most indisputable grace, and had words and smiles for
everybody. The bridegroom appears to have been rather
petrified (he was saying orisons to St. James, I dare say) and
was condemned by the severer critics, for being able to
produce no better speech at the breakfast, when his health
was drunk with ever so much elaboration of eloquence, than
‘ I thank you — I propose yours. ‘ For my part I sympathize
more with him in that point of specific stupidity, than on
any other I have yet heard of. If he had said as little about
ecclesiastical architecture, he would have been
unobjectionable, wholly. They went away with four horses, in disdain
of the railroads.
But poor Mrs. Hedley was dreadfully affected — I knew
she would be. This is the only grown-up daughter, you
see, — the others being all children, the youngest three years
old — and she loses a constant companion, besides the
hourly sight of a very lovely girl, the delight of her eyes and
heart.
Dearest, you understood why I told you to-day of Mr.
Kenyon’s professed opinions ? It was to make you know
him. The rest, we know alike. And for him even, when
he looks back on a thing instead of looking forward to it
(where the Bude Light of the world is in his eyes and blinds
them) he will see aright and as we do. Only you frightened
me by your idea about his application to you. May God
forbid !
May God bless you, rather, in the best way ! Why
should I choose how ? I ‘ ought ‘ not, I think, to fancy
that I know the best for you, enough to use such words.
But I am your own. That, we both know ! May I be
yours, not to do you harm, my beloved ! Good-night, now !