proposed in vain--and any part of England would be as objectionable as
Italy, and not more advantageous to _me_ than Wimpole Street. To take
courage and be cheerful, as you say, is left as an alternative--and
(the winter may be mild!) to fall into the hands of God rather than of
man: _and I shall be here for your November, remember_.

And now that you are not well, will you take care? and not come on
Wednesday unless you are better? and never again bring me _wet
flowers_, which probably did all the harm on Thursday? I was afraid
for you then, though I said nothing. May God bless you.

Ever yours I am--your own.

Ninety is not a high pulse ... for a fever of this kind--is it? and
the heat diminishes, and his spirits are better--and we are all much
easier ... have been both to-day and yesterday indeed.

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

Tuesday Morning,
[Post-mark, October 14, 1845.]

Be sure, my own, dearest love, that this is for the best; will be seen
for the best in the end. It is hard to bear now--but _you_ have to
bear it; any other person could not, and you will, I know, knowing
you--_will_ be well this one winter if you can, and then--since I am
_not_ selfish in this love to you, my own conscience tells me,--I
desire, more earnestly than I ever knew what desiring was, to be yours
and with you and, as far as may be in this life and world, YOU--and
no hindrance to that, but one, gives me a moment's care or fear; but
that one is just your little hand, as I could fancy it raised in any
least interest of yours--and before that, I am, and would ever be,
still silent. But now--what is to make you raise that hand? I will not
speak _now_; not seem to take advantage of your present feelings,--we
will be rational, and all-considering and weighing consequences, and
foreseeing them--but first I will prove ... if _that_ has to be done,
why--but I begin speaking, and I should not, I know.

Bless you, love!

R.B.

To-morrow I see you, without fail. I am rejoiced as you can imagine,
at your brother's improved state.

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

Tuesday,
[Post-mark, October 15, 1845.]

Will this note reach you at the 'fatal hour' ... or sooner? At any
rate it is forced to ask you to take Thur