1844 had almost relapsed into
his former thoughts about me, if I may judge from a letter of his
which I have found. Nay, at the Commemoration of 1845, a few months
before I left the Anglican Church, I think he said about me to a
friend, "I trust after all we shall keep him."

In that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to Dr. Pusey, I
asked another friend also to communicate to others in confidence the
prospect which lay before me.

To another friend I gave the opportunity of knowing it, if he would,
in the following postscript to a letter:--

"While I write, I will add a word about myself. You may come near a
person or two who, owing to circumstances, know more exactly my state
of feeling than you do, though they would not tell you. Now I do not
like that you should not be aware of this, though I see no _reason_
why you should know what they happen to know. Your wishing it
otherwise would _be_ a reason."

I had a dear and old friend, near his death; I never told him my
state of mind. Why should I unsettle that sweet calm tranquillity,
when I had nothing to offer him instead? I could not say, "Go to
Rome;" else I should have shown him the way. Yet I offered myself for
his examination. One day he led the way to my speaking out; but,
rightly or wrongly, I could not respond. My reason was, "I have no
certainty on the matter myself. To say 'I think' is to tease and to
distress, not to persuade."

I wrote to him on Michaelmas Day, 1843: "As you may suppose, I have
nothing to write to you about, pleasant. I _could_ tell you some very
painful things; but it is best not to anticipate trouble, which after
all can but happen, and, for what one knows, may be averted. You are
always so kind, that sometimes, when I part with you, I am nearly
moved to tears, and it would be a relief to be so, at your kindness
and at my hardness. I think no one ever had such kind friends as I
have."

The next year, January 22, I wrote to him: "Pusey has quite enough on
him, and generously takes on himself more than enough, for me to add
burdens when I am not obliged; particularly too, when I am very
conscious, that there _are_ burdens, which I am or shall be obliged
to lay upon him some time or other, whether I will or no."

And on February 21: "Half-past ten. I am just up, having a bad cold;
the like has not happened to me (except twice in January) in my
memory. You may think you have been in my thoughts, long before my
rising. Of cour