disappointing—­he was apparently nearer than most aspirants to the prize,—­having the best will of the actresses on whose shoulder the burthen was to lie.  I hope they have been quite honest with him—­knowing as I do the easy process of transferring all sorts of burthens, in that theatrical world, from responsible to irresponsible members of it, actors to manager, manager to actors, as the case requires.  And it is a ‘hope deferred’ with Chorley; not for the second or third time.  I am very glad that he cares no more than you tell me.

Still you go down-stairs, and still return safely, and every step leads us nearer to my ‘hope.’  How unremittingly you bless me—­a visit promises a letter, a letter brings such news, crowns me with such words, and speaks of another visit—­and so the golden links extend.  Dearest words, dearest letters—­as I add each to my heap, I say—­I do say—­’I was poor, it now seems, a minute ago, when I had not this!’ Bless you, dear, dear Ba.  On Saturday I shall be with you, I trust—­may God bless you!  Ever your own

E.B.B. to R.B.

                                Sunday.
                                [Post-mark, March 16, 1846.]

Ever dearest I am going to say one word first of all lest I should forget it afterward, of the two or three words which you said yesterday and so passingly that you probably forget to-day having said them at all.  We were speaking of Mr. Chorley and his house, and you said that you did not care for such and such things for yourself, but that for others—­now you remember the rest.  And I just want to say what it would have been simpler to have said at the time—­only not so easy—­(I couldn’t say it at the time) that you are not if you please to fancy that because I am a woman I have not the pretension to do with as little in any way as you yourself ... no, it is not that I mean to say....  I mean that you are not, if you please, to fancy that, because I am a woman, I look to be cared for in those outside things, or should have the slightest pleasure in any of them.  So never wish nor regret in your thoughts to be able or not to be able to care this and this for me; for while you are thinking so, our thoughts go different ways, which is wrong.  Mr. Fox did me a great deal too much honour in calling me ‘a religious hermit’; he was ‘curiously’ in fault, as you saw.  It is not my vocation to sit on a stone in a cave—­I was always too fond of lolling upon sofas or in chairs nearly as large,—­and this, which I sit in, was given to me when I was a child by my uncle, the uncle I spoke of to you once, and has been lolled in nearly ever since ... when I was well enough.  Well—­that is a sort of luxury, of course—­but it is more idle than expensive, as a habit, and I do believe that it is the ’head and foot of my offending’ in that matter.  Yes—­’confiteor tibi’ besides, that I do hate white dimity curtains,