affection, the kindest words which can be written!  I cannot tell you all his inexpressible kindness to us both.  He justifies us to the uttermost, and, in that, all the grateful attachment we had, each on our side, so long professed towards him.  Indeed, in a note I had from him yesterday, he uses this strong expression after gladly speaking of our successful journey:  ’I considered that you had perilled your life upon this undertaking, and, reflecting upon your last position, I thought that you had done well.’  But my life was not perilled in the journey.  The agitation and fatigue were evils, to be sure, and Mrs. Jameson, who met us in Paris by a happy accident, thought me ‘looking horribly ill’ at first, and persuaded us to rest there for a week on the promise of accompanying us herself to Pisa to help Robert to take care of me.  He, who was in a fit of terror about me, agreed at once, and so she came with us, she and her young niece, and her kindness leaves us both very grateful.  So kind she was, and is—­for still she is in Pisa—­opening her arms to us and calling us ‘children of light’ instead of ugly names, and declaring that she should have been ‘proud’ to have had anything to do with our marriage.  Indeed, we hear every day kind speeches and messages from people such as Mr. Chorley of the ‘Athenaeum,’ who ’has tears in his eyes,’ Monckton Milnes, Barry Cornwall, and other friends of my husband’s, but who only know me by my books, and I want the love and sympathy of those who love me and whom I love.  I was talking of the influence of the journey.  The change of air has done me wonderful good notwithstanding the fatigue, and I am renewed to the point of being able to throw off most of my invalid habits; and of walking quite like a woman.  Mrs. Jameson said the other day, ’You are not improved, you are transformed.’  We have most comfortable rooms here at Pisa and have taken them for six months, in the best situation for health, and close to the Duomo and Leaning Tower.  It is a beautiful, solemn city, and we have made acquaintance with Professor Ferucci, who is about to admit us to [a sight][148] of the [University Lib]rary.  We shall certainly [spend] next summer in Italy somewhere, and [talk] of Rome for the next winter, but, of course, this is all in air.  Let me hear

from you, dearest Mrs. Martin, and direct, ’M.  Browning, Poste Restante, Pisa’—­it is best.  Just before we left Paris I wrote to my aunt Jane, and from Marseilles to Bummy, but from neither have I heard yet.

With best love to dearest Mr. Martin, ever both my dear kind friends,

Your affectionate and grateful
BA.

[Footnote 148:  The original is torn here.]

To Miss Mitford[149] Moulins:  October 2, 1846.