no effort in the
world, graphic writing and philosophic and what you please--for I
_will_ be--_would_ be, better than my works and words with an infinite
stock beyond what I put into convenient circulation whether in fine
speeches fit to remember, or fine passages to quote. For the rest, I
had meant to tell you before now, that you often put me 'in a maze'
when you particularize letters of mine--'such an one was kind' &c. I
know, sometimes I seem to give the matter up in despair, I take out
paper and fall thinking on you, and bless you with my whole heart and
then begin: 'What a fine day this is?' I distinctly remember having
done that repeatedly--but the converse is not true by any means, that
(when the expression may happen to fall more consentaneously to the
mind's motion) that less is felt, oh no! But the particular thought at
the time has not been of the _insufficiency_ of expression, as in the
other instance.

Now I will leave off--to begin elsewhere--for I am always with you,
beloved, best beloved! Now you will write? And walk much, and sleep
more? Bless you, dearest--ever--

Your own,

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

[Post-marks, Mis-sent to Mitcham. February 19 and 20, 1846.]

Best and kindest of all that ever were to be loved in dreams, and
wondered at and loved out of them, you are indeed! I cannot make you
feel how I felt that night when I knew that to save me an anxious
thought you had come so far so late--it was almost too much to feel,
and _is_ too much to speak. So let it pass. You will never act so
again, ever dearest--you shall not. If the post sins, why leave the
sin to the post; and I will remember for the future, will be ready to
remember, how postmen are fallible and how you live at the end of a
lane--and not be uneasy about a silence if there should be one
unaccounted for. For the Tuesday coming, I shall remember that
too--who could forget it?... I put it in the niche of the wall, one
golden lamp more of your giving, to throw light purely down to the end
of my life--I do thank you. And the truth is, I _should_ have been in
a panic, had there been no letter that evening--I was frightened the
day before, then reasoned the fears back and waited: and if there had
been no letter after all--. But you are supernaturally good and kind.
How can I ever 'return' as people say (as they might say in their
ledgers) ... any of it all? How indeed can I who have not e