alone; that nothing is to be made of us.  The fact is, we are not like our child, who kisses everybody who smiles at him!  Neither my health nor our pecuniary circumstances, nor our inclinations perhaps, would admit of our entering into English society here, which is kept up much after the old English models, with a proper disdain for Continental simplicities of expense.  We have just heard from Father Prout, who often, he says, sees Mr. Horne, ’who is as dreamy as ever.’  So glad I am, for I was beginning to be uneasy about him.  He has not answered my letter from Lucca.  The verses in the ’Athenaeum’[198] are on Sophia Cottrell’s child.

May God bless you, dearest friend.  Speak of yourself more particularly to your ever affectionate

E.B.B.

Robert’s kindest regards.  Tell us of Mr. Chorley’s play, do.

[Footnote 196:  Apparently the Echo-song which now precedes canto iv. of the Princess, though one is surprised at the opinion here expressed of it.  It will be remembered that this and the other lyrical interludes did not appear in the original edition of the Princess.]

[Footnote 197:  Notably the Sonnets from the Portuguese.]

[Footnote 198:  ‘A Child’s Death at Florence,’ which appeared in the Athenaeum of December 22, 1849.]

To Mrs. Martin Florence:  February 22, 1850.

My dearest Mrs. Martin,—­Have you wondered that I did not write before?  It was not that I did not thank you in my heart for your kind, considerate letter, but I was unconquerably uncomfortable about papa; and, what with the weather, which always has me in its power somehow, and other things, I fell into a dislike of writing, which I hope you didn’t mistake for ingratitude, because it was not in the least like the same fault.  Now the severe weather (such weather for Italy!) has broken up, and I am relieved in all ways, having received the most happy satisfactory news from Wimpole Street, and the assurance from my sisters that if I were to see papa I should think him looking as well as ever.  He grew impatient with Dr. Elliotson’s medicines which, it appears, were of a very lowering character—­suddenly gave them up, and as suddenly recovered his looks and all the rest, and everybody at home considers him to be quite well.  It has relieved me of a mountain’s weight, and I thank God with great joy.  Oh, you must have understood how natural it was for me to be unhappy under the other circumstances.  But if you thought, dearest friend, that they were necessary to induce me to write to him the humblest and most beseeching of letters, you do not know how I feel his alienation or my own love for him.  I With regard to my brothers, it is quite different, though even towards them I may faithfully say that my affection has borne itself higher than my pride.  But as to papa, I have never contended about the right or the wrong, I have never irritated