the
more and more happiness. It would have been worse than unreasonable if
in marrying I had expected one quarter of such happiness, and indeed I
did not, to do myself justice, and every now and then I look round
in astonishment and thankfulness together, yet with a sort of horror,
seeing that this is not heaven after all. We live just as we did when
you knew us, just as shut-up a life. Robert never goes anywhere except
to take a walk with Flush, which isn't my fault, as you may imagine:
he has not been out one evening of the fifteen months; but what with
music and books and writing and talking, we scarcely know how the days
go, it's such a gallop on the grass. We are going through some of
old Sacchetti's novelets now: characteristic work for Florence, if
somewhat dull elsewhere. Boccaccios can't be expected to spring up
with the vines in rows, even in this climate. We got a newly printed
addition to Savonarola's poems the other day, very flat and cold, they
did not catch fire when he was burnt. The most poetic thing in the
book is his face on the first page, with that eager, devouring soul in
the eyes of it. You may suppose that I am able sometimes to go over
to the gallery and adore the Raphaels, and Robert will tell you of the
divine Apollino which you missed seeing in Poggio Imperiale, and which
I shall be set face to face before, some day soon, I hope....

Father Prout was in Florence for some two hours in passing to Rome,
and of course, according to contract of spirits of the air, Robert met
him, and heard a great deal of you and Geddie (saw Geddie's picture,
by the way, and thought it very like), was told much to the advantage
of Mr. Macpherson,[170] and at the end of all, kissed in the open
street as the speaker was about to disappear in the diligence. When
you write, tell me of the _book_. Surely it will be out anon, and then
you will be free, shall you not? Have you seen Tennyson's new poem,
and what of it? Miss Martineau is to discourse about Egypt, I suppose;
but in the meanwhile do you hear that she forswears mesmerism, as Mr.
Spenser Hall does, according to the report Robert brings me home from
the newspaper reading. Now I shall leave him room to stand on and
speak a word to you. Give my love to Gerardine, and don't forget to
mention her letter. I hope you are happy about your friends, and that,
in particular, Lady Byron's health is strengthening and to strengthen.
Always my dear friend's

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