ch another mote--_then_ one might sympathize and feel no such
inconvenience--but, because I have written a 'Sordello,' do I turn to
just its _double_, Sordello the second, in your books, and so perforce
see nothing wrong? 'No'--it is supposed--'but something _as_ obscure
in its way.' Then down goes the bond of union at once, and I stand no
nearer to view your work than the veriest proprietor of one thought
and the two words that express it without obscurity at all--'bricks
and mortar.' Of course an artist's whole problem must be, as Carlyle
wrote to me, 'the expressing with articulate clearness the thought in
him'--I am almost inclined to say that _clear expression_ should be
his only work and care--for he is born, ordained, such as he is--and
not born learned in putting what was born in him into words--what ever
_can_ be clearly spoken, ought to be. But 'bricks and mortar' is very
easily said--and some of the thoughts in 'Sordello' not so readily
even if Miss Mitford were to try her hand on them.

I look forward to a real life's work for us both. _I_ shall do
all,--under your eyes and with your hand in mine,--all I was intended
to do: may but _you_ as surely go perfecting--by continuing--the work
begun so wonderfully--'a rose-tree that beareth seven-times seven'--

I am forced to dine in town to-day with an old friend--'to-morrow'
always begins half the day before, like a Jewish sabbath. Did your
sister tell you that I met her on the stairs last time? She did _not_
tell you that I had almost passed by her--the eyes being still
elsewhere and occupied. Now let me write out that--no--I will send the
old ballad I told you of, for the strange coincidence--and it is very
charming beside, is it not? Now goodbye, my sweetest, dearest--and
tell me good news of yourself to-morrow, and be but half a quarter as
glad to see me as I shall be blessed in seeing you. God bless you
ever.

Your own

R.

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

Saturday Morning.
[Post-mark, February 7, 1846.]

Dearest, to my sorrow I must, I fear, give up the delight of seeing
you this morning. I went out unwell yesterday, and a long noisy dinner
with speech-making, with a long tiresome walk at the end of it--these
have given me such a bewildering headache that I really see some
reason in what they s