[Postmark: August 7, 1846]
Friday Morning.
(First of all, let me tell you that the whole story about
that death through grief, madness &c, turns out to be a vile
fabrication, — false from beginning to end. My mother’s
informant, I now find, had derived the knowledge from
newspaper also — I hope the other tale, of the Turk, is true
at least.)
And now, love, I can go on to say that no letter comes —
is it the post’s fault ? Yes — I think, — so does your
goodness spoil me — you have to tell me about to-morrow,
beside. I shall wait hopefully till 2 or 3 o’clock.
Mr. Kenyon was there last evening, for all my prognostications
— he had already twice passed this place in the course of
the day on his way to Lewisham. He soon asked me as I
expected — or something that sounded like it — for, in
the half whisper of his tone, I can only hope he did not put
the question thus ‘ Have you seen Miss Barrett since Saturday,
— or have you called to-day ? ‘ My mind misgives a little
— at all events I only answered the last part of the sentence
— and now, mark you ! — after dinner he proposed that I
should go to him on Wednesday, and make one of a party
he is organising. I tried some faint excuse or other — ‘ You
know,’ interposed he, ‘ you can pay a visit to Wimpole Street
and I shall know and keep away from troubling you ‘ — or
words to that effect. I thought it really better to simply (in
every sense of the word) smile, and attempt to say nothing.
Now, I feel sure that if I were to remark, ‘ I will call on
Mrs. Jameson ‘ — for instance — he would say, ‘So will I,
then, if I can ‘ — on that day, rather than any other —
unless some special business had been mentioned as the object
of my visit. And here is another inconvenience he will perhaps
consider ‘ As he means to call on Wednesday, — there is no
reason I should keep away to-morrow — Saturday — ‘
It will be, however, a justification in his eyes at the end
— ‘ he knew her so well, saw so much of her, — who could
wonder ? ‘
I sate by a pleasant chatting Jewess, Goldsmid, or whatever
the name is, — also by Thackeray — and Milnes came in
the evening, — yet the dulness was mortal, and I am far
from my ordinary self to-day. I am convinced that general
society depresses my spirits more than any other cause. I
could keep by myself for a month till I recovered my mind’s
health. But you are part or all of that self now, — and
would be, were you only present in memory, in fancy. As
it is, oh, to be with you, Ba ?
Three o’clock, no letter ! I will put my own philosophy
in practice and be consoled that you are not in any
circumstances to justify and require anxiety — not unwell
— nor have any fresh obstacles arisen necessarily . . Any
alleviations so long as I am allowed to keep a good
substantial misfortune at the end !
Once you said in your very own way . . when I sent
you some roses in a box, and no letter with them, ‘ Now I
shall write no more to-day, not having been written to ! ‘ I
cannot write more — I see ! Ah, Ba, here the letter comes ! !
and I will wait from reading it to kiss my gratitude to you,
you utterly best and dearest ! And I repeat my kisses while
I write the few words there is time for — what a giver you
are of all good things all together. Let me take the best
first, not minding ingratitude to the rest, and say yes,
to-morrow I will see you — even if Mr. Kenyon comes, it
will be easy saying — ‘ I cannot go on Wednesday.’ Did you
manage so well with Mrs. Jameson ? As for Horne, — why,
there may have been Sordelloisms, I daresay — I only meant,
‘ if you look an invalid to him, — he will say so, just when
your improved health is my one excuse for the journey and
its fatigues — and if you look plainly no longer an invalid ‘
— Oh, I don’t know . . I thought he might talk of that too,
and bring in a host ! There is the secret, rendered more
obscurely perhaps ! As for the room, the dearest four walls
that I ever have been enclosed by — I only thought of the
possible phrase — ‘ Still confined to her room ‘ — or the
like — and as — that is the fact, — I rather understood
the whole tone in which you spoke of the circumstance, as
of slight dissatisfaction at the notion of the intended visit
. . in tuam sententiam discedens, I sordelloized !
The words about your health reassure me, beloved ! I
had no positive fears quite as you suppose . . but I coupled
one circumstance with another, do you see, and did get to
apprehend what you now show me to be groundless,
thank God !
Oh, my time ! Bless you, ever, ever, beloved !
Your own R.