[Postmark: August 10, 1846]
Monday Morning.
You dearest Ba, do you write thus to put all thoughts
of fear out of my head, and make me confident nothing can
go ill with us if you feel so for me ? I seem to have a
presentiment that this afternoon, before this letter reaches
you, Mr. Kenyon will have spoken — and if the whole
world spoke its loudest, your words would be all I should
hear. Or are they trials, every such word, of my vanity and
weakness, — do you think, ‘ if anything can call them up,
this will ? ‘ No, I very well know your entire truth in this
and the other assurances I make my life bright with, —
through any darkness that can come. What you choose to
assert of yourself, I feel of myself every hour. But there
must be this disproportionateness in a beloved object —
before I knew you, women seemed not so much better than
myself, — therefore, no love for them ! There is no love
but from beneath, far beneath, — that is the law of its
nature — and now, no more of words — will there indeed be
need of no more, — as I dare hope and believe, will the
deeds suffice ? — not in their own value, no ! — but in
their plain, certain intention, — as a clear advance
beyond mere words? We shall soon know — if you live, you
will be mine, I must think — you have put these dear arms
too surely round my neck to be disengaged now. I cannot
presume to suggest thoughts to you resolutions for the
future — you must impart to me always, — but I do lift up
my heart in an aspiration to lead the life that seems
accorded by your side, under your eyes. — I cannot write
on this, dear Ba, — to say, I will live and work as I
ought, seems too presumptuous. Understand all, and help me
with your dearest hand, my own love !
As I say, I fancy Mr. Kenyon will speak — I only hope,
the caution will act both ways, and that he will see as
much inexpediency in altogether opposing as in encouraging
such a step. That you should pass another winter and the
risk of it — and perhaps many — that seems the worst fate.
Can he apprehend any worse evil than that ?
I observe in the Times to-day that the Peninsular &
Oriental Steam Company have advertised a ship from
Southampton to Genoa, Leghorn, Civita Vecchia and
Naples on the 30th September, and that ‘ thenceforth the
company will despatch a first-class steamer to those ports on
the 15th of every month. One more facility, should
circumstances require it. Are you sure that the France
journey with the delays and fatigue is preferable to this —
where if the expenses are greater, yet the uncertain expenses
are impossible ? You are to think, beloved.
Now, will you write to-night ? I may come to-morrow ?
Say one word — you have heard why I wanted to come, even
if Mr. Kenyon’s questions had not been put — otherwise,
Friday will be impossible — I can say, ‘ I called on
Saturday, and think of doing so next Friday — ‘ I must
see you to-morrow indeed, love !
Let me leave off here — I love you wholly, and bless you
ever as now — Your own R.