lasting obligation on me, and
one which I shall value so much, that I covet it at a distance. I do
not pretend to any extraordinary meekness under criticism and it is
possible enough that I might not be altogether obedient to yours. But
with my high respect for your power in your Art and for your
experience as an artist, it would be quite impossible for me to hear a
general observation of yours on what appear to you my master-faults,
without being the better for it hereafter in some way. I ask for only
a sentence or two of general observation--and I do not ask even for
_that_, so as to tease you--but in the humble, low voice, which is so
excellent a thing in women--particularly when they go a-begging! The
most frequent general criticism I receive, is, I think, upon the
style,--'if I _would_ but change my style'! But _that_ is an objection
(isn't it?) to the writer bodily? Buffon says, and every sincere
writer must feel, that '_Le style c'est l'homme_'; a fact, however,
scarcely calculated to lessen the objection with certain critics.

Is it indeed true that I was so near to the pleasure and honour of
making your acquaintance? and can it be true that you look back upon
the lost opportunity with any regret? _But_--you know--if you had
entered the 'crypt,' you might have caught cold, or been tired to
death, and _wished_ yourself 'a thousand miles off;' which would have
been worse than travelling them. It is not my interest, however, to
put such thoughts in your head about its being 'all for the best'; and
I would rather hope (as I do) that what I lost by one chance I may
recover by some future one. Winters shut me up as they do dormouse's
eyes; in the spring, _we shall see_: and I am so much better that I
seem turning round to the outward world again. And in the meantime I
have learnt to know your voice, not merely from the poetry but from
the kindness in it. Mr. Kenyon often speaks of you--dear Mr.
Kenyon!--who most unspeakably, or only speakably with tears in my
eyes,--has been my friend and helper, and my book's friend and helper!
critic and sympathiser, true friend of all hours! You know him well
enough, I think, to understand that I must be grateful to him.

I am writing too much,--and notwithstanding that I am writing too
much, I will write of one thing more. I will say that I am your
debtor, not only for this cordial letter and for all the pleasure
which came with it, but in other ways, and those the highest: and