Luria: the last act
throws light back on all, I hope. Observe only, that Luria _would_
stand, if I have plied him effectually with adverse influences, in
such a position as to render any other end impossible without the hurt
to Florence which his religion is, to avoid inflicting--passively
awaiting, for instance, the sentence and punishment to come at night,
would as surely inflict it as taking part with her foes. His aim is to
prevent the harm she will do herself by striking him, so he moves
aside from the blow. But I know there is very much to improve and
heighten in this fourth act, as in the others--but the right aspect of
things seems obtained and the rest of the work is plain and easy.

I am obliged to leave off--the rest to-morrow--and then dear,
Saturday! I love you utterly, my own best, dearest--

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

Thursday Night.
[Post-mark, January 23, 1846.]

Yes, I understand your 'Luria'--and there is to be more light; and I
open the window to the east and wait for it--a little less gladly than
for _you_ on Saturday, dearest. In the meanwhile you have 'lucid
moments,' and 'strengthen' yourself into the wisdom of learning to
love me--and, upon consideration, it does not seem to be so hard after
all ... there is 'less for the future to take away' than you had
supposed--so _that_ is the way? Ah, 'these lucid moments, in which all
things are thoroughly _perceived_';--what harm they do me!--And I am
to 'understand for you,' you say!--Am I?

On the other side, and to make the good omen complete, I remembered,
after I had sealed my last letter, having made a confusion between the
ivory and horn gates, the gates of false and true visions, as I am apt
to do--and my penholder belongs to the ivory gate, ... as you will
perceive in your lucid moments--poor holder! But, as you forget me on
Wednesdays, the post testifying, ... the sinecure may not be quite so
certain as the Thursday's letter says. And _I_ too, in the meanwhile,
grow wiser, ... having learnt something which you cannot do,--you of
the 'Bells and Pomegranates': _You cannot make a pen._ Yesterday I
looked round the world in vain for it.

Mr. Kenyon does not come--_will_ not perhaps until Saturday! Which
reminds me--Mr. Kenyon told me about a year ago that he had been
painfully employed that morning in _parting_ two--dearer than
friends--and he had done it he said, by proving to either,