say the day's visit is not crossed by uncertainties
as to the return through the wild country at nightfall?--Now Keats
speaks of 'Beauty, that must _die_--and Joy whose hand is ever at his
lips, bidding farewell!' And _who_ spoke of--looking up into the eyes
and asking 'And _how long_ will you love us'?--There is a Beauty that
will not die, a Joy that bids no farewell, dear dearest eyes that will
love for ever!

And _I_--am to love no longer than I can. Well, dear--and when I _can_
no longer--you will not blame me? You will do only as ever, kindly and
justly; hardly more. I do not pretend to say I have chosen to put my
fancy to such an experiment, and consider how _that_ is to happen, and
what measures ought to be taken in the emergency--because in the
'universality of my sympathies' I certainly number a very lively one
with my own heart and soul, and cannot amuse myself by such a
spectacle as their supposed extinction or paralysis. There is no doubt
I should be an object for the deepest commiseration of you or any more
fortunate human being. And I hope that because such a calamity does
not obtrude itself on me as a thing to be prayed against, it is no
less duly implied with all the other visitations from which no
humanity can be altogether exempt--just as God bids us ask for the
continuance of the 'daily bread'!--'battle, murder and sudden death'
lie behind doubtless. I repeat, and perhaps in so doing only give one
more example of the instantaneous conversion of that indignation we
bestow in another's case, into wonderful lenity when it becomes our
own, ... that I only contemplate the _possibility_ you make me
recognize, with pity, and fear ... no anger at all; and imprecations
of vengeance, _for what_? Observe, I only speak of cases _possible_;
of sudden impotency of mind; that _is_ possible--there _are_ other
ways of '_changing_,' 'ceasing to love' &c. which it is safest not to
think of nor believe in. A man _may_ never leave his writing desk
without seeing safe in one corner of it the folded slip which directs
the disposal of his papers in the event of his reason suddenly leaving
him--or he may never go out into the street without a card in his
pocket to signify his address to those who may have to pick him up in
an apoplectic fit--but if he once begins to fear he is growing a glass
bottle, and, _so_, liable to be smashed,--do you see? And now, love,
dear heart of my heart, my own, only Ba--see no more--see what I _