I have been (a strange thing for me) so very unwell since Sunday, that I
have hardly been able to hold up my head--a bilious attack, I believe,
and a very miserable sort of business. This, my dear friend, is the
reason why I have not sooner written to you in reference to your noble
letter, which I read in _The Examiner_, and for which--as it exalts
me--I cannot, cannot thank you in words.
We had been following up the blow in Kinkel's[9] favour, and I was
growing sanguine, in the hope of getting him out (having enlisted strong
and active sympathy in his behalf), when the news came of his escape.
Since then we have heard nothing of him. I rather incline to the opinion
that the damnable powers that be connived at his escape, but know
nothing. Whether he be retaken or whether he appear (as I am not without
hope he may) in the streets of London, I shall be a party to no step
whatever without consulting you; and if any scrap of intelligence
concerning him shall reach me, it shall be yours immediately.
Horne wrote the article. I shall see him here to-night, and know how he
will feel your sympathy and support. But I do not wait to see him before
writing, lest you should think me slow to feel your generosity. We said
at home when we read your letter, that it was like the opening of your
whole munificent and bare heart.
Ever most affectionately yours,
My dear Landor.
[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
[Symbol: right hand] THIS IS NO. 2.