And then I shall take him away, I, in his full content, to the sunshine, to the land of dreams.

There are still some things I can hardly realise.

Good-bye, dearest. 
Emilia.

LETTER XXXIV.

Graysmill, March 20th.

My beloved Constance, I am glad your letter of this morning has made me a little unhappy; I have been a selfish brute, thinking of none but myself, and him.  I little thought, whilst I lay basking in the sun, that you stood there shrouded in densest fog.  I wish I had written every day, you poor sweet!

But now I have evolved a plan, and Gabriel thinks with me that it is a good one.  You will find me rather prosaic, yet indeed, sweetheart, I think you cannot be well; these doleful dumps have nothing in common with your nature.  You are not well, you have no friend to cheer you, and this melancholy is the result.

Come to us!  Gabriel and I are the most undecided beings in creation; ten days ago he threw up his poem in disgust; there was nothing for it but to get married at once and start for Italy.  A few days later, inspiration set in, and now he is again so deep in his verse that we shall stay here until the poem is finished.  Come to us!  You will find us excellent company.  Yes, dearest, you must do this; who knows when we may be together again?  Besides, there would be a blank in your knowledge of my life, had you never seen me in this home, grown dear to me beyond all expectation, through my great happiness.  Besides, I want you and Gabriel to know each other.

Mrs. Rayner—­if you must bring her—­will find enough society at Graysmill to keep her busy for a month or two; I think she would get on splendidly with Uncle George and his people.

You and I, my darling, will be happy together as of old.  I have told grandmamma and Aunt Caroline that I have invited the pretty friend whose photographs they admire so much, to come and stay with me; they ask me to add their importunities to mine.

Come, dearest, and without delay, for your own sake and mine.  Come, and let us be happy together whilst I am still your lover of old years.

Emilia.

Answer immediately, will you, Mrs. Norris?

LETTER XXXV.

Graysmill, March 26th.

You are the best friend that ever lived!  I am quite restless with impatience, so is Gabriel, so are my old ones.  And who most of all?  Oh! little white face, how I long to hold you in my hands again, and what warmth of love and happiness I long to pour into your heart!

I shall not scold you, because you are not well, but what do you mean by saying that you will come, “although of course we shall never see each other”?  Dear silly, do you imagine that I spend the whole day with that creature you pretend to be so jealous of?