hermit of course, but excusable in _me_ who would accept brown serge
as a substitute with ever so much indifference. It is the white light
which comes in the dimity which is so hateful to me. To 'go mad in
white dimity' seems perfectly natural, and consequential even. Set
aside these foibles, and one thing is as good as another with me, and
the more simplicity in the way of living, the better. If I saw Mr.
Chorley's satin sofas and gilded ceilings I should call them very
pretty I dare say, but never covet the possession of the like--it
would never enter my mind to do so. Then Papa has not kept a carriage
since I have been grown up (they grumble about it here in the house,
but when people have once had great reverses they get nervous about
spending money) so I shall not miss the Clarence and greys ... and I
do entreat you _not_ to put those two ideas together again of _me_ and
the finery which has nothing to do with me. I have talked a great deal
too much of all this, you will think, but I want you, once for all, to
apply it broadly to the whole of the future both in the general view
and the details, so that we need not return to the subject. Judge for
me as for yourself--_what is good for you is good for me_. Otherwise I
shall be humiliated, you know; just as far as I know your thoughts.

Mr. Kenyon has been here to-day--and I have been down-stairs--two
great events! He was in brilliant spirits and sate talking ever so
long, and named you as he always does. Something he asked, and then
said suddenly ... 'But I don't see why I should ask _you_, when I
ought to know him better than you can.' On which I was wise enough to
change colour, as I felt, to the roots of my hair. There is the
effect of a bad conscience! and it has happened to me before, with Mr.
Kenyon, three times--once particularly, when I could have cried with
vexation (to complete the effects!), he looked at me with such
infinite surprise in a dead pause of any speaking. _That_ was in the
summer; and all to be said for it now, is, that it couldn't be helped:
couldn't!

Mr. Kenyon asked of 'Saul.' (By the way, you never answered about the
blue lilies.) He asked of 'Saul' and whether it would be finished in
the new number. He hangs on the music of your David. Did you read in
the _Athenaeum_ how Jules Janin--no, how the critic on Jules Janin (was
it the critic? was it Jules Janin? the glorious confusion is gaining
on me I think) has magnificently confounded pl