Now do not think any more of the Domizias, nor 'try to remember,'
which is the most wearing way of thinking. The more I read and read
your 'Luria,' the grander it looks, and it will make its own road with
all understanding men, you need not doubt, and still less need you try
to make me uneasy about the harm I have done in 'coming between,' and
all the rest of it. I wish never to do you greater harm than just
_that_, and then with a white conscience 'I shall love thee to
eternity!... dearest! You have made a golden work out of your
'golden-hearted Luria'--as once you called him to me, and I hold it in
the highest admiration--_should_, if you were precisely nothing to me.
And still, the fifth act _rises_! That is certain. Nevertheless I seem
to agree with you that your hand has vacillated in your Domizia. We do
not know her with as full a light on her face, as the other
persons--we do not see the _panther_,--no, certainly we do not--but
you will do a very little for her which will be everything, after a
time ... and I assure you that if you were to ask for the manuscript
before, you should not have a page of it--_now_, you are only to rest.
What a work to rest upon! Do consider what a triumph it is! The more I
read, the more I think of it, the greater it grows--and as to 'faded
lines,' you never cut a pomegranate that was redder in the deep of it.
Also, no one can say 'This is not clearly written.' The people who are
at 'words of one syllable' may be puzzled by you and Wordsworth
together this time ... as far as the expression goes. Subtle thoughts
you always must have, in and out of 'Sordello'--and the objectors
would find even Plato (though his medium is as lucid as the water that
ran beside the beautiful plane-tree!) a little difficult perhaps.

To-day Mr. Kenyon came, and do you know, he has made a beatific
confusion between last Saturday and next Saturday, and said to me he
had told Miss Thomson to mind to come on Friday if she wished to see
me ... 'remembering' (he added) 'that Mr. Browning took _Saturday_!!'
So I let him mistake the one week for the other--'Mr. Browning took
Saturday,' it was true, both ways. Well--and then he went on to tell
me that he had heard from Mrs. Jameson who was at Brighton and unwell,
and had written to say this and that to him, and to enquire
besides--now, what do you think, she enquired besides? 'how you and
... Browning were' said Mr. Kenyon--I write his words. He is coming,
perhaps