For good you are, to those notes--you shall have more,--that is, the
rest--on Wednesday then, at 3, except as you except. God bless you.
Oh, let me tell you--I suppose Mr. Horne must be in town--as I
received a letter two days ago, from the contriver of some literary
society or other who had before written to get me to belong to it,
protesting _against_ my reasons for refusing, and begging that 'at all
events I would suspend my determination till I had been visited by Mr.
H. on the subject'--and, as they can hardly mean to bring him express
from the Drachenfels for just that, he is returned no doubt--and as he
is your friend, I take the opportunity of mentioning the course I
shall pursue with him or any other friend of yours I may meet,--(and
everybody else, I may add--) the course I understand you to desire,
with respect to our own intimacy. While I may acknowledge, I believe,
that I correspond with you, I shall not, in any case, suffer it to be
known that I see, or have seen you. This I just remind you of, lest
any occasion of embarrassment should arise, for a moment, from your
not being quite sure how _I_ had acted in any case.--Con che, le bacio
le mani--a rivederla!
_E.B.B. to R.B._
Tuesday Morning.
[Post-mark, June 10, 1845.]
I must thank you by one word for all your kindness and
consideration--which could not be greater; nor more felt by me. In the
first place, afterwards (if that should not be Irish dialect) do
understand that my letter passed from my hands to go to yours on
_Friday_, but was thrown aside carelessly down stairs and 'covered up'
they say, so as not to be seen until late on Saturday; and I can only
humbly hope to have been cross enough about it (having conscientiously
tried) to secure a little more accuracy another time.--And then, ...
if ever I should want anything done or found, ... (a roc's egg or the
like) you may believe me that I shall not scruple to ask you to be the
finder; but at this moment I want nothing, indeed, except your poems;
and that is quite the truth. Now do consider and think what I could
possibly want in your 'outside London world'; you, who are the 'Genius
of the lamp'!--Why if you light it and let me read your romances, &c.,
by it, is not that the best use for it, and am I likely to look for
another? Only I shall remember what you say, gratefully and seriously;
and if ever I should have a good fair opportunity of giving you
trouble (as if I had not done it already!), you may rely upon my evil
intentions; even though dear Mr. Kenyon should not actually be at New
York, ... which he is not, I am glad to say, as I saw him on Saturday.
Which reminds me that _he_ knows of your having been here, of course!
and will not mention it; as he understood from me that _you_ would
not.--Thank you! Also there was an especial reason which constrained
me, on pain of appearing a great hypocrite, to tell Miss Mitford the
bare fact of my having seen you--and reluctantly I did it, though
placing some hope in her promise of discretion. And how necessary the
discretion is, will appear in the awful statistical fact of our having
at this moment, as my sisters were calculating yesterday, some forty
relations in London--to say nothing of the right wing of the enemy.
For Mr. Horne, I could have told you, and really I thought I _had_
told you of his being in England.
Last paragraph of all is, that I _don't want to be amused_, ... or
rather that I _am_ amused by everything and anything. Why surely,
surely, you have some singular ideas about me! So, till to-morrow,