You see I can’t go to you just now, whatever temptations you hold out.  Wait—­oh, we must wait.  And whenever I do go to you, you will see Robert at the same time.  He will like to see you; and besides, he would as soon trust me to travel to Reading alone as I trust Peninni to be alone here.  I believe he thinks I should drop off my head and leave it under the seat of the rail-carriage if he didn’t take care of it....

I ought to have told you that Mr. Kingsley (one of the reasons why I liked him) spoke warmly and admiringly of you.  Yes, I ought to have told you that—­his praise is worth having.  Of course I have heard much of Mr. Harness from Mr. Kenyon and you, as well as from my own husband.  But there is no use in measuring temptations; I am a female St. Anthony, and won’t be overcome.  The Talfourds wanted me to dine with them on Monday.  Robert goes alone.  You don’t mention Mr. Chorley.  Didn’t he find his way to you?

Mr. Patmore told us that Tennyson was writing a poem on Arthur—­not an epic, a collection of poems, ballad and otherwise, united by the subject, after the manner of ‘In Memoriam,’ but in different measures.  The work will be full of beauty, whatever it is, I don’t doubt.

I am reading more Dumas.  He never flags.  I must see Dumas when I go again to Paris, and it will be easy, as we know his friend Jadin.

Did you read Mrs. Norton’s last book—­the novel, which seems to be so much praised?  Tell me what it is, in your mind....

I will write no more, that you may have the answer to my kind proposition as soon as possible. After the fortnight.

God bless you.

Your ever affectionate
E.B.B.

* * * * *

To Miss Mitford

58 Welbeck Street:  Tuesday, [September 1852].

Alas, no; I cannot go to you before the Saturday you name, nor for some days after, dearest friend.  It is simply impossible.  Wilson has not come back, nor will till the end of next week, and though I can get away from my child for two or three hours at once during the daytime, for the whole day I could not go.  What would become of him, poor darling?...

And I can’t go to you this week, nor next week, probably.  How vexatious!  My comfort is that you seem to be better—­much, much better—­and that you have courage to think of the pony carriages and the Kingsleys of the earth.  That man impressed me much, interested me much.  The more you see of him, the more you will like him, is my prophecy.  He has a volume of poems, I hear, close upon publication, and Robert and I are looking forward to it eagerly.

Mr. Ruskin has been to see us (did I tell you that?)...  We went to Denmark Hill yesterday by agreement, to see the Turners—­which, by the way, are divine.  I like Mr. Ruskin much, and so does Robert.  Very gentle, yet earnest—­refined and truthful.  I like him very much.  We count him among the valuable acquaintances made this year in England....