England I ventured to hope that
some good might come of it to me in my room here, besides the general
good, which I look for with the rest of the public, when the censer
swings back into the midst of us again. And how good of you, dear Mrs.
Jameson, to think of me there where the perfumes were set burning; it
makes me glad and grand that you should have been able to do so. Also
the kind wishes which came with the thoughts (you say) were not in
vain, for I have been very idle and very _well_; the angel of the
summer has done more for me even than usual, and till the last wave of
his wing I took myself to be quite well and at liberty, and even now
I am as well as anyone can be who has heard the prison door shut for a
whole winter at least, and knows it to be the only English alternative
of a grave. Which is a gloomy way of saying that I am well but forced
to shut myself up with disagreeable precautions all round, and I ought
to be gratified instead of gloomy. Believe me that I _shall_ be so
when you come to see me, remaining in the meanwhile

Most truly yours,
ELIZABETH BARRETT.

_To Mrs. Martin_
Friday [about December 1845].

I am the guilty person, dearest Mrs. Martin! You would have heard from
Henrietta at least yesterday, only I persisted in promising to write
instead of her; and so, if there are reproaches, let them fall. Not
that I am audacious and without shame! But I have grown familiar with
an evil conscience as to these matters of not writing when I ought;
and long ago I grew familiar with your mercy and power of pardoning;
and then--and then--if silence and sulkiness are proved crimes of mine
to ever such an extreme, why it would not be unnatural. Do you think I
was born to live the life of an oyster, such as I _do_ live here? And
so, the moaning and gnashing of teeth are best done alone and without
taking anyone into confidence. And so, this is all I have to say for
myself, which perhaps you will be glad of; for you will be ready
to agree with me that next to such faults of idleness, negligence,
silence (call them by what names you please!) as I have been guilty
of, is the repentance of them, if indeed the latter be not the most
unpardonable of the two.

And what are you doing so late in Herefordshire? Is dear Mr. Martin
too well, and tempting the demons? I do hope that the next news of you
will be of your being about to approach the sun and visit us on the
road. You do not give your wisdom away to yo