I cannot tell you how much pleasure I have derived from the receipt of
your letter. I have heard little of you, and seen less, for so long a
time, that your handwriting came like the renewal of some old
friendship, and gladdened my eyes like the face of some old friend.
If I hear from Lady Holland before you return, I shall, as in duty
bound, present myself at her bidding; but between you and me and the
general post, I hope she may not renew her invitation until I can visit
her with you, as I would much rather avail myself of your personal
introduction. However, whatever her ladyship may do I shall respond to,
and anyway shall be only too happy to avail myself of what I am sure
cannot fail to form a very pleasant and delightful introduction.
Your kind invitation and reminder of the subject of a pleasant
conversation in one of our pleasant rides, has thrown a gloom over the
brightness of Twickenham, for here I am chained. It is indispensably
necessary that "Oliver Twist" should be published in three volumes, in
September next. I have only just begun the last one, and, having the
constant drawback of my monthly work, shall be sadly harassed to get it
finished in time, especially as I have several very important scenes
(important to the story I mean) yet to write. Nothing would give me so
much pleasure as to be with you for a week or so. I can only imperfectly
console myself with the hope that when you see "Oliver" you will like
the close of the book, and approve my self-denial in staying here to
write it. I should like to know your address in Scotland when you leave
town, so that I may send you the earliest copy if it be produced in the
vacation, which I pray Heaven it may.
Meanwhile, believe that though my body is on the banks of the Thames,
half my heart is going the Oxford circuit.
Mrs. Dickens and Charley desire their best remembrances (the latter
expresses some anxiety, not unmixed with apprehension, relative to the
Copyright Bill, in which he conceives himself interested), with hearty
wishes that you may have a fine autumn, which is all you want, being
sure of all other means of enjoyment that a man can have.
I am, my dear Talfourd,
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--I hope you are able to spare a moment now and then to glance at
"Nicholas Nickleby," and that you have as yet found no reason to alter
the opinion you formed on the appearance of the first number.
You know, I suppose, that they elected me at the Athenaeum? Pray thank
Mr. Serjeant Storks for me.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]