e_ too, who have so much
reason and provocation for blaming the archangel Gabriel.--No--you
could not misinterpret so,--and if you could not, and if you are not
displeased with me, you must be unwell, I think. I took for granted
yesterday that you had gone out as before--but to-night it is
different--and so I come to ask you to be kind enough to write one
word for me by some post to-morrow. Now remember ... I am not asking
for a letter--but for a _word_ ... or line strictly speaking.

Ever yours, dear friend,

E.B.B.

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

[Post-mark, August 30, 1845.]

This sweet Autumn Evening, Friday, comes all golden into the room and
makes me write to you--not think of you--yet what shall I write?

It must be for another time ... after Monday, when I am to see you,
you know, and hear if the headache be gone, since your note would not
round to the perfection of kindness and comfort, and tell me so.

God bless my dearest friend.

R.B.

I am much better--well, indeed--thank you.

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

[Post-mark, August 30, 1845.]

Can you understand me _so_, dearest friend, after all? Do you see
me--when I am away, or with you--'taking offence' at words, 'being
vexed' at words, or deeds of yours, even if I could not immediately
trace them to their source of entire, pure kindness; as I have
hitherto done in every smallest instance?

I believe in _you_ absolutely, utterly--I believe that when you bade
me, that time, be silent--that such was your bidding, and I was
silent--dare I say I think you did not know at that time the power I
have over myself, that I could sit and speak and listen as I have done
since? Let me say now--_this only once_--that I loved you from my
soul, and gave you my life, so much of it as you would take,--and all
that is _done_, not to be altered now: it was, in the nature of the
proceeding, wholly independent of any return on your part. I will not
think on extremes you might have resorted to; as it is, the assurance
of your friendship, the intimacy to which you admit me, _now_, make
the truest, deepest joy of my life--a joy I can never think fugitive
while we are in life, because I KNOW, as to me, I _could_ not
willingly displease you,--while, as to you, your goodness and
unde