rstand what I meant to say yesterday of
dear Mr. Kenyon. His blame would fall as my blame of myself has
fallen: he would say--will say--'it is ungenerous of her to let such a
risk be run! I thought she would have been more generous.' There, is
Mr. Kenyon's opinion as I foresee it! Not that it would be spoken, you
know! he is too kind. And then, he said to me last summer, somewhere
_a propos_ to the flies or butterflies, that he had 'long ceased to
wonder at any extreme of foolishness produced by--_love_.' He will of
course think you very very foolish, but not ungenerously foolish like
other people.

Never mind. I do not mind indeed. I mean, that, having said to myself
worse than the worst perhaps of what can be said against me by any who
regard me at all, and feeling it put to silence by the fact that you
_do_ feel so and so for me; feeling that fact to be an answer to
all,--I cannot mind much, in comparison, the railing at second remove.
There will be a nine days' railing of it and no more: and if on the
ninth day you should not exactly wish never to have known me, the
better reason will be demonstrated to stand with us. On this one point
the wise man cannot judge for the fool his neighbour. If you _do_ love
me, the inference is that you would be happier with than without
me--and whether you do, you know better than another: so I think of
_you_ and not of _them_--always of _you_! When I talked of being
afraid of dear Mr. Kenyon, I just meant that he makes me nervous with
his all-scrutinizing spectacles, put on for great occasions, and his
questions which seem to belong to the spectacles, they go together
so:--and then I have no presence of mind, as you may see without the
spectacles. My only way of hiding (when people set themselves to look
for me) would be the old child's way of getting behind the window
curtains or under the sofa:--and even _that_ might not be effectual if
I had recourse to it now. Do you think it would? Two or three times I
fancied that Mr. Kenyon suspected something--but if he ever _did_, his
only reproof was a reduplicated praise of _you_--he praises you always
and in relation to every sort of subject.

What a _misomonsism_ you fell into yesterday, you who have much great
work to do which no one else can do except just yourself!--and you,
too, who have courage and knowledge, and must know that every work,
with the principle of life in it, _will_ live, let it be trampled ever
so under the heel of