s up from that last illusion of life:--and this, till the
Pisa-business, which threw me off, far as ever, again--farther than
ever--when George said 'he could not flatter me' and I dared not
flatter myself. But do _you_ believe that I never wrote what I did not
feel: I never did. And I ask one kindness more ... do not notice what
I have written here. Let it pass. We can alter nothing by ever so many
words. After all, he is the victim. He isolates himself--and now and
then he feels it ... the cold dead silence all round, which is the
effect of an incredible system. If he were not stronger than most men,
he could not bear it as he does. With such high qualities too!--so
upright and honourable--you would esteem him, you would like him, I
think. And so ... dearest ... let _that_ be the last word.

I dare say you have asked yourself sometimes, why it was that I never
managed to draw you into the house here, so that you might make your
own way. Now _that_ is one of the things impossible to me. I have not
influence enough for _that_. George can never invite a friend of his
even. Do you see? The people who do come here, come by particular
license and association ... Capt. Surtees Cook being one of them.
Once ... when I was in high favour too ... I asked for Mr. Kenyon to
be invited to dinner--he an old college friend, and living close by
and so affectionate to me always--I felt that he must be hurt by the
neglect, and asked. _It was in vain._ Now, you see--

May God bless you always! I wrote all my spirits away in this letter
yesterday, and kept it to finish to-day ... being yours every day,
glad or sad, ever beloved!--

Your BA.

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

Tuesday.
[Post-mark, January 27, 1846.]

Why will you give me such unnecessary proofs of your goodness? Why not
leave the books for me to take away, at all events? No--you must fold
up, and tie round, and seal over, and be at all the pains in the world
with those hands I see now. But you only threaten; say you 'shall
send'--as yet, and nothing having come, I do pray you, if not too
late, to save me the shame--add to the gratitude you never can now, I
think ... only _think_, for you are a siren, and I don't know
certainly to what your magic may not extend. Thus, in not so important
a matter, I should have said, the day before yesterday, that no letter
from you cou