ll see plainer one day, but
with that I do not concern myself--you shall admire the true
heroes--but me you shall love for the love's sake. Let me kiss you,
you, my dearest, dearest--God bless you ever--

_R.B. to E.B.B._

[Post-mark, March 16, 1846.]

Indeed I would, dearest Ba, go with entire gladness and pride to see a
light that came from your room--why should that surprise you? Well,
you will _know_ one day.

We understand each other too about the sofas and gilding--oh, I know
you, my own sweetest! For me, if I had set those matters to heart, I
should have turned into the obvious way of getting them--not _out_ of
it, as I did resolutely from the beginning. All I meant was, to
express a very natural feeling--if one could give you diamonds for
flowers, and if you liked diamonds,--then, indeed! As it is, wherever
we are found shall be, if you please, 'For the love's sake found
therein--sweetest _house_ was ever seen!'

Mr. Kenyon must be merciful. Lilies are of all colours in
Palestine--one sort is particularized as _white_ with a dark blue spot
and streak--the water lily, lotos, which I think I meant, is _blue_
altogether.

I have walked this morning to town and back--I feel much better,
'honestly'! The head better--the spirits rising--as how should they
not, when _you_ think all will go well in the end, when you write to
me that you go down-stairs and are stronger--and when the rest is
written?

Not more now, dearest, for time is pressing, but you will answer
this,--the love that is not here,--not the idle words, and I will
reply to-morrow. Thursday is so far away yet!

Bless you, my very own, only dearest!

_E.B.B. to R.B._

Monday Evening.
[Post-mark, March 17, 1846.]

Dearest, you are dearest always! Talk of Sirens, ... there must be
some masculine ones 'rari nantes,' I fancy, (though we may not find
them in unquestionable authorities like your AElian!) to justify this
voice I hear. Ah, how you speak, with that pretension, too, to
dumbness! What should people be made of, in order to bear such words,
do you think? Will all the wax from all the altar-candles in the
Sistine Chapel, keep the piercing danger from their ears? Being tied
up a good deal tighter than Ulysses did not save _me_. Dearest
dearest: I laugh, you see, as usual, not to cry! But deep down, deeper
than the Sirens go, deep undernea