Correspondence

2315.  RB to EBB

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 12, 252–253.

[London]

Thursday. [Postmark: 16 April 1846]

How are you now, dearest? If the worse for my visit .. No, there is no affectation in what I would say—you might be worse, you know, thro’ excitement, whether pleasurable or the reverse.– One comfort is, the walking, going down stairs, &c. have not occasioned it. I expect everything from your going out of doors, that is to be– What a joy to write it, think of it, expect it! Oh, why are you not here,—where I sit writing,—whence, in a moment, I could get to know why the lambs are bleating so, in the field behind .. I do not see it from either window in this room—but I see a beautiful sunshine (2½ p.m) and a chestnut tree leafy all over, in a faint trembling chilly way, to be sure—and a holly hedge I see, and shrubs, and blossomed trees over the garden wall,—were you but here, dearest, dearest—how we would go out, with Flush on before—for with a key I have, I lock out the world, and then look down on it,—for there is a vast view from our greatest hill—did I ever tell you that Wordsworth was shown that hill or its neighbour;—someone saying “RB lives over there—by that hill”– “Hill”—interposed Wordsworth—“we call that, such as that,—a rise”! I must have told you, I think. —(While I write, the sun gets even brighter—you must be down stairs, I feel sure.)

I fully meant to go out this morning—but there is a pressing note from my old young friend, Frank Talfourd, to get me to witness—only another play and farce![1]—and what is to be done?

Here shall be my ending “for reasons, for reasons.” To-morrow I will write more; my Monday—to have to wait so long! And when I do see you, I begin to pour out profusions of confusions of speech about Mrs Procter and her vain notions—to what earthly good? .. as it is very easy to ask now! now that I am here again, alone again!

Dear, dearest Ba, I cannot serve you, nor even talk to you .. but love you,—oh, that I must dare say I can do, as none other could,—as you have yet to know!

—Bless you my very dearest, sweetest Ba. I am your own, heart and soul–

RB

Address: Miss Barrett, / 50. Wimpole St

Postmark: 8NT8 AP16 1846 B.

Docket, in EBB’s hand: 159.

Publication: RB-EBB, p. 627.

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. See letter 2171, note 12.

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