ving the
headache worse than ever, through the agreement with Moxon. I do, do
beseech you to spare yourself, and let 'Luria' go as he is, and above
all things not to care for my infinite foolishnesses as you see them
in those notes. Remember that if you are ill, it is not so easy to
say, 'Now I will be well again.' Ever dearest, care for me in
yourself--say how you are.... I am not unwell to-day, but feel flagged
and weak rather with the cold ... and look at your flowers for courage
and an assurance that the summer is within hearing. May God bless you
... blessing _us_, beloved!

Your own

BA.

Mr. Poe has sent me his poems and tales--so now I must write to thank
him for his dedication. Just now I have the book. As to Mr.
Buckingham, he will go, Constantinople and back, before we talk of
him.

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Saturday Morning.
[Post-mark, March 21, 1846.]

Dearest,--it just strikes me that I _might_ by some chance be kept in
town this morning--(having to go to Milnes' breakfast there)--so as
not to find the note I venture to expect, in time for an answer by our
last post to-night. But I will try--this only is a precaution against
the possibility. Dear, dear Ba! I cannot thank you, know not how to
thank you for the notes! I adopt every one, of course, not as Ba's
notes but as Miss Barrett's, not as Miss Barrett's but as anybody's,
everybody's--such incontestable improvements they suggest. When shall
I tell you more ... on Monday or Tuesday? _That_ I _must_
know--because you appointed Monday, 'if nothing happened--' and Mr. K.
happened--can you let me hear by our early post to-morrow--as on
Monday I am to be with Moxon early, you know--and no letters arrive
before 11-1/2 or 12. I was not very well yesterday, but to-day am much
better--and you,--I say how _I_ am precisely to have a double right to
know _all_ about you, dearest, in this snow and cold! How do you bear
it? And Mr. K. spoke of '_that_ being your worst day.' Oh, dear
dearest Ba, remember how I live in you--on the hopes, with the memory
of you. Bless you ever!

R.

_E.B.B. to R.B._

[Post-mark, March 21, 1846.]

I do not understand how my letters limp so instead of flying as they