and has
all the business with him that he can transact.

I am quite at ease on the points that you have expressed yourself as not
at ease upon. Quite. I cannot too often say that if they were carried on
weak shoulders they would break the bearer down. But in your mastering
of them lies the mastery over the reader.

This will reach you at Knebworth, I hope, to-morrow afternoon. Pray give
your doubts to the winds of that high spot, and believe that if I had
them I would swarm up the flag-staff quite as nimbly as Margrave and
nail the Fenwick colours to the top.

Ever affectionately yours.

[Sidenote: The same.]

3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Monday, Twentieth May, 1861._

MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,

I did not read from Australia till the end, because I was obliged to be
hard at work that day, and thought it best that the MS. should come back
to you rather than that I should detain it. Of course, I _can_ read it,
whenever it suits you. As to Isabel's dying and Fenwick's growing old, I
would say that, beyond question, whatever the meaning of the story tends
to, is the proper end.

All the alterations you mention in your last, are excellent.

As to title, "Margrave, a Tale of Mystery," would be sufficiently
striking. I prefer "Wonder" to "Mystery," because I think it suggests
something higher and more apart from ordinary complications of plot, or
the like, which "Mystery" might seem to mean. Will you kindly remark
that the title PRESSES, and that it will be a great relief to have it as
soon as possible. The last two months of my story are our best time for
announcement and preparation. Of course, it is most desirable that your
story should have the full benefit of them.

Ever faithfully.

[Sidenote: Lady Olliffe.]

LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER,
_Sunday, Twenty-sixth May, 1861._

MY DEAR LADY OLLIFFE,

I have run away to this sea-beach to get rid of my neuralgic face.

Touching the kind invitations received from you this morning, I feel
that the only course I can take--without being a Humbug--is to decline
them. After the middle of June I shall be mostly at Gad's Hill--I know
that I cannot do better than keep out of the way of hot rooms and late
dinners, and what would you think of me, o