and go,’ and that my love for you did not, and that is true; the first clause as the last of the sentence, for my sympathies are very wide and general,—­always have been—­and the natural problem has been the giving unity to their object, concentrating them instead of dispersing.  I seem to have foretold, foreknown you in other likings of mine—­now here ... when the liking ‘came’ ... and now elsewhere ... when as surely the liking ‘went’:  and if they had stayed before the time would that have been a comfort to refer to?  On the contrary, I am as little likely to be led by delusions as can be,—­for Romeo thinks he loves Rosaline, and is excused on all hands—­whereas I saw the plain truth without one mistake, and ’looked to like, if looking liking moved—­and no more deep did I endart mine eye’—­about which, first I was very sorry, and after rather proud—­all which I seem to have told you before.—­And now, when my whole heart and soul find you, and fall on you, and fix forever, I am to be dreadfully afraid the joy cannot last, seeing that

—­it is so baseless a fear that no illustration will serve!  Is it gone now, dearest, ever-dearest?

And as you amuse me sometimes, as now, by seeming surprised at some chance expression of a truth which is grown a veriest commonplace to me—­like Charles Lamb’s ’letter to an elderly man whose education had been neglected’—­when he finds himself involuntarily communicating truths above the capacity and acquirements of his friend, and stops himself after this fashion—­’If you look round the world, my dear Sir—­for it is round!—­so I will make you laugh at me, if you will, for my inordinate delight at hearing the success of your experiment with the opium.  I never dared, nor shall dare inquire into your use of that—­for, knowing you utterly as I do, I know you only bend to the most absolute necessity in taking more or less of it—­so that increase of the quantity must mean simply increased weakness, illness—­and diminution, diminished illness.  And now there is diminution!  Dear, dear Ba—­you speak of my silly head and its ailments ... well, and what brings on the irritation?  A wet day or two spent at home; and what ends it all directly?—­just an hour’s walk!  So with me:  now,—­fancy me shut in a room for seven years ... it is—­no, don’t see, even in fancy, what is left of me then!  But you, at the end; this is all the harm:  I wonder ...  I confirm my soul in its belief in perpetual miraculousness ...  I bless God with my whole heart that it is thus with you!  And so, I will not even venture to say—­so superfluous it were, though with my most earnest, most loving breath (I who do love you more at every breath I draw; indeed, yes dearest,)—­I will not bid you—­that is, pray you—­to persevere!  You have all my life bound to yours—­save me from my ’seven years’—­and God reward you!