ou marry
worthily.

I say this probably 'as one who beateth the air;' yet you _must_
consider that I who say it, and who say it _emphatically_, consider a
happy marriage as the happiest state, and that all pecuniary reasons
against love are both ineffectual and _stupid_.

Flippancy, flippancy, of course. London would be better (for your
friends) as a residence for you, than Wittemberg can be; and for that,
and no other account, I could be sorry that you did not settle _so_.

Well, never mind! The description sounds excellently; almost
over-romantic, though. Is there steadiness, do you think, and depth, and
reliableness altogether? What impression does he make among those who
have known him longest? Dearest Fanny, do nothing in haste.

Now I am going to tell you something which has vexed me, and continues
to vex me. The clock. If you knew Robert, you never would have asked
him. He has a sort of mania about shops, and won't buy his own gloves.
He bought a pair of boots the other day (because I went down on my knees
to ask him, and the water was running in through his soles), and he will
not soon get over it. Without exaggeration, he would rather leap down
among the lions after your glove, as the knight of old, than walk into a
shop for you. If I could but go out, there would be no difficulties; but
I am shut up in my winter prison, in spite of the extraordinarily mild
weather, through having suffered so much in the beginning of the winter.
I asked Sarianna; she also shrinks from the responsibility; is afraid of
not pleasing you, &c. The end of it all is that Mrs. Haworth will think
us all very disobliging barbarians, and that really I am vexed. Why not
ask Mrs. Cochrane to get the thing for you? You can but ask, at any
rate.

I am very anxious just now about dear Mr. Kenyon, who has been
alarmingly ill, and is only better, I fear. Miss Bayley wrote to tell
me, and added that he was going to Cowes when he could move, which
pleases me; for only change of air and liberation from London air can
complete his convalescence.

For the rest, I am busy beyond description; but never too much so, mind,
dear Fanny, to be glad to get your letters. Write soon. Your ever
affectionate

E.B.B.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Martin_

[Paris]: 3 Rue du Colisee: February 21, [1856].

My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I should have answered your note days ago! If
you saw how I am in a plague of industry just now, a