I must speak, however, (before the silence) of what you said and repeat in words for which I gratefully thank you—­and which are not ‘ostentatious’ though unnecessary words—­for, if I were in a position to accept sacrifices from you, I would not accept such a sacrifice ... amounting to a sacrifice of duty and dignity as well as of ease and satisfaction ... to an exchange of higher work for lower work ... and of the special work you are called to, for that which is work for anybody.  I am not so ignorant of the right uses and destinies of what you have and are.  You will leave the Solicitor-Generalships to the Fitzroy Kellys, and justify your own nature; and besides, do me the little right, (over the over-right you are always doing me) of believing that I would not bear or dare to do you so much wrong, if I were in the position to do it.

And for all the rest I thank you—­believe that I thank you ... and that the feeling is not so weak as the word.  That you should care at all for me has been a matter of unaffected wonder to me from the first hour until now—­and I cannot help the pain I feel sometimes, in thinking that it would have been better for you if you never had known me.  May God turn back the evil of me!  Certainly I admit that I cannot expect you ... just at this moment, ... to say more than you say, ... and I shall try to be at ease in the consideration that you are as accessible to the ‘unicorn’ now as you ever could be at any former period of your life.  And here I have done.  I had done living, I thought, when you came and sought me out! and why? and to what end? That, I cannot help thinking now.  Perhaps just that I may pray for you—­which were a sufficient end.  If you come on Saturday I trust you to leave this subject untouched,—­as it must be indeed henceforth.

I am yours,

E.B.B.

No word more of Pisa—­I shall not go, I think.

R.B. to E.B.B.

[Post-mark, September 18, 1845.]

Words!—­it was written I should hate and never use them to any purpose.  I will not say one word here—­very well knowing neither word nor deed avails—­from me.

My letter will have reassured you on the point you seem undecided about—­whether I would speak &c.

I will come whenever you shall signify that I may ... whenever, acting in my best interests, you feel that it will not hurt you (weary you in any way) to see me—­but I fear that on Saturday I must be otherwhere—­I enclose the letter from my old foe.  Which could not but melt me for all my moroseness and I can hardly go and return for my sister in time.  Will you tell me?

It is dark—­but I want to save the post—­

Ever yours

R.B.

E.B.B. to R.B.

Wednesday.
[Post-mark, September 18, 1845.]

Of course you cannot do otherwise than go with your sister—­or it will be ‘Every man out of his humour’ perhaps—­and you are not so very ‘savage’ after all.