n, who met us in Paris
by a happy accident, thought me 'looking horribly ill' at first, and
persuaded us to rest there for a week on the promise of accompanying
us herself to Pisa to help Robert to take care of me. He, who was in
a fit of terror about me, agreed at once, and so she came with us, she
and her young niece, and her kindness leaves us both very grateful. So
kind she was, and is--for still she is in Pisa--opening her arms to
us and calling us 'children of light' instead of ugly names, and
declaring that she should have been 'proud' to have had anything to
do with our marriage. Indeed, we hear every day kind speeches and
messages from people such as Mr. Chorley of the 'Athenaeum,' who 'has
tears in his eyes,' Monckton Milnes, Barry Cornwall, and other friends
of my husband's, but who only know _me_ by my books, and I want the
love and sympathy of those who love me and whom I love. I was talking
of the influence of the journey. The change of air has done me
wonderful good notwithstanding the fatigue, and I am renewed to the
point of being able to throw off most of my invalid habits; and of
walking quite like a woman. Mrs. Jameson said the other day, 'You are
not _improved_, you are _transformed_.' We have most comfortable rooms
here at Pisa and have taken them for six months, in the best situation
for health, and close to the Duomo and Leaning Tower. It is a
beautiful, solemn city, and we have made acquaintance with Professor
Ferucci, who is about to admit us to [a sight][148] of the [University
Lib]rary. We shall certainly [spend] next summer in Italy _somewhere_,
and [talk] of Rome for the next winter, but, of course, this is all in
air. Let me hear

from you, dearest Mrs. Martin, and direct, 'M. Browning, Poste
Restante, Pisa'--it is best. Just before we left Paris I wrote to my
aunt Jane, and from Marseilles to Bummy, but from neither have I heard
yet.

With best love to dearest Mr. Martin, ever both my dear kind friends,

Your affectionate and grateful
BA.

[Footnote 148: The original is torn here.]

_To Miss Mitford_[149]
Moulins: October 2, 1846.

I began to write to you, my beloved friend, earlier, that I might
follow your kindest wishes literally, and also to thank you at once
for your goodness to me, for which may God bless you. But the fatigue
and agitation have been very great, and I was forced to break off--as
now I dare not revert to what is behind. I will tell you more another
day. At