Robert will have told you of our dear friend here.  We began by finding him much better than we expected, but gradually the sad truth deepens that he is very ill—­oh, it deepens and saddens at once.  The face lights up with the warm, generous heart; then the fire drops, and you see the embers.  The breath is very difficult—­it is hard to live.  He leans on the table, saying softly and pathetically ‘My God! my God!’ Now and then he desires aloud to pass away and be at rest.  I cannot tell you what his kindness is—­his consideration is too affecting; kinder he is than ever.  Miss Bayley is an excellent nurse—­at once gentle and decided—­and, if she did but look further than this life and this death, she would be a perfect companion for him.  Peni creeps about like a mouse; but he goes out, and he isn’t over-tired, as he was at Ventnor.  We think he is altogether better in looks and ways.

Your affectionate
BA.

* * * * *

A short visit to Taunton seems to have been made about the end of September, as anticipated in the last letter, and then, at some time in the course of October, they set out for Florence.  But Mrs. Browning, in thus quitting England for the last time, left behind her as a legacy the completed volume of ‘Aurora Leigh.’  This poem was the realisation of her early scheme, which goes back at least to the year 1844, of writing a novel in verse—­a novel modern in setting and ideas, and embodying her own ideals of social and moral progress.  And to a large extent she succeeded.  As a vehicle of her opinions, the scheme and style of the poem proved completely adequate.  She moves easily through the story; she handles her metre with freedom and command; she can say her say without exaggeration or unnatural strain.  Further, the opinions themselves, as those who have learnt to know her through her letters will feel sure, are lofty and honourable, and full of a genuine enthusiasm for humanity.  As a novel, ‘Aurora Leigh’ may be open to the criticism that most of the characters fail to impress us with a sense of reality and vitality, and that the hero hardly wins the sympathy from the reader which he is meant to win.  But as a poem it is unquestionably a very remarkable work—­not so full of permanent poetic spirit as the ‘Sonnets from the Portuguese,’ not so readily popular as ‘The Cry of the Children’ or ’Cowper’s Grave’—­but a highly characteristic work of one whose character was made up of pure thoughts and noble ideals, which, in spite of the inevitable change of manners and social interests with the lapse of years, will retain into an indefinite future a very considerable intrinsic value as poetry, and a very high rank among the works of its author.