rld at a word of
yours,--it is precisely for this, that I remind you too often of the
necessity of using this right of yours, not to your injury, of being
wise and strong for both of us, and of guarding your happiness which
is mine. I have said these things ninety and nine times over, and over
and over have you replied to them,--as yesterday!--and now, do not
speak any more. It is only my preachment for general use, and not for
particular application,--only to be _ready_ for application. I love
you from the deepest of my nature--the whole world is nothing to me
beside you--and what is so precious, is not far from being terrible.
'How _dreadful_ is this place.'

To hear you talk yesterday, is a gladness in the thought for
to-day,--it was with such a full assent that I listened to every word.
It is true, I think, that we see things (things apart from ourselves)
under the same aspect and colour--and it is certainly true that I have
a sort of instinct by which I seem to know your views of such subjects
as we have never looked at together. I know _you_ so well (yes, I
boast to myself of that intimate knowledge), that I seem to know also
the _idola_ of all things as they are in your eyes--so that never,
scarcely, I am curious,--never anxious, to learn what your opinions
may be. Now, _have_ I been curious or anxious? It was enough for me to
know _you_.

More than enough! You have 'left undone'--do you say? On the contrary,
you have done too much,--you _are_ too much. My cup,--which used to
hold at the bottom of it just the drop of Heaven dew mingling with the
absinthus,--has overflowed all this wine: and _that_ makes me look out
for the vases, which would have held it better, had you stretched out
your hand for them.

Say how you are--and do take care and exercise--and write to me,
dearest!

Ever your own--

BA.

How right you are about 'Ben Capstan,'--and the illustration by the
_yellow clay_. That is precisely what I meant,--said with more
precision than I could say it. Art without an ideal is neither nature
nor art. The question involves the whole difference between Madame
Tussaud and Phidias.

I have just received Mr. Edgar Poe's book--and I see that the
deteriorating preface which was to have saved me from the vanity-fever
produceable by the dedication, is cut down and away--perhaps in this
particular copy only!

Tue