_R.B. to E.B.B._
[Post-mark, October 23, 1845.]
But I _must_ answer you, and be forgiven, too, dearest. I was (to
begin at the beginning) surely not '_startled_' ... only properly
aware of the deep blessing I have been enjoying this while, and not
disposed to take its continuance as pure matter of course, and so
treat with indifference the first shadow of a threatening intimation
from without, the first hint of a possible abstraction from the
quarter to which so many hopes and fears of mine have gone of late. In
this case, knowing you, I was sure that if any imaginable form of
displeasure could touch you without reaching me, I should not hear of
it too soon--so I spoke--so _you_ have spoken--and so now you get
'excused'? No--wondered at, with all my faculty of wonder for the
strange exalting way you will persist to think of me; now, once for
all, I _will_ not pass for what I make no least pretence to. I quite
understand the grace of your imaginary self-denial, and fidelity to a
given word, and noble constancy; but it all happens to be none of
mine, none in the least. I love you because I _love_ you; I see you
'once a week' because I cannot see you all day long; I think of you
all day long, because I most certainly could not think of you once an
hour less, if I tried, or went to Pisa, or 'abroad' (in every sense)
in order to 'be happy' ... a kind of adventure which you seem to
suppose you have in some way interfered with. Do, for this once,
think, and never after, on the impossibility of your ever (you know I
must talk your own language, so I shall say--) hindering any scheme of
mine, stopping any supposable advancement of mine. Do you really think
that before I found you, I was going about the world seeking whom I
might devour, that is, be devoured by, in the shape of a wife ... do
you suppose I ever dreamed of marrying? What would it mean for me,
with my life I am hardened in--considering the rational chances; how
the land is used to furnish its contingent of Shakespeare's women: or
by 'success,' 'happiness' &c. &c. you never never can be seeing for a
moment with the world's eyes and meaning 'getting rich' and all that?
Yet, put that away, and what do you meet at every turn, if you are
hunting about in the dusk to catch my good, but yourself?
_I_ know who has got it, caught it, and means to keep it on his
heart--the person most concerned--_I_, dearest, who cannot play the
disinterested part of bidding _you_ forget your 'protestation' ...
what should I have to hold by, come what will, through years, through
this life, if God shall so determine, if I were not sure, _sure_ that
the first moment when you can suffer me with you 'in that relation,'
you will remember and act accordingly. I will, as you know, conform my
life to _any_ imaginable rule which shall render it possible for your
life to move with it and possess it, all the little it is worth.
For your friends ... whatever can be 'got over,' whatever opposition
may be rational, will be easily removed, I suppose. You know when I
spoke lately about the 'selfishness' I dared believe I was free from,
I hardly meant the low faults of ... I shall say, a different
organization to mine--which has vices in plenty, but not those.
Besides half a dozen scratches with a pen make one stand up an
apparent angel of light, from the lawyer's parchment; and Doctors'
Commons is one bland smile of applause. The selfishness I deprecate is
one which a good many women, and men too, call 'real passion'--under
the influence of which, I ought to say 'be mine, what ever happens to
_you_'--but I know better, and you know best--and you know me, for all
this letter, which is no doubt in me, I feel, but dear entire goodness
and affection, of which God knows whether I am proud or not--and now
you will let me be, will not you. Let me have my way, live my life,
love my love.
When I am, praying God to bless her ever,