With which conviction—­renewed conviction time by time, of your extravagance of kindness to me unworthy,—­will it seem characteristically consistent when I pray you not to begin frightening me, all the same, with threats of writing less kindly?  That must not be, love, for your sake now—­if you had not thrown open those windows of heaven I should have no more imagined than that Syrian lord on whom the King leaned ’how such things might be’—­but, once their influence showered, I should know, too soon and easily, if they shut up again!  You have committed your dear, dearest self to that course of blessing, and blessing on, on, for ever—­so let all be as it is, pray, pray!

No—­not all.  No more, ever, of that strange suspicion—­’insolent’—­oh, what a word!—­nor suppose I shall particularly wonder at its being fancied applicable to that, of all other passages of your letter!  It is quite as reasonable to suspect the existence of such a quality there as elsewhere:  how can such a thing, could such a thing come from you to me?  But, dear Ba, do you know me better! Do feel that I know you, I am bold to believe, and that if you were to run at me with a pointed spear I should be sure it was a golden sanative, Machaon’s touch, for my entire good, that I was opening my heart to receive!  As for words, written or spoken—­I, who sin forty times in a day by light words, and untrue to the thought, I am certainly not used to be easily offended by other peoples’ words, people in the world.  But your words!  And about the ‘mission’; if it had not been a thing to jest at, I should not have begun, as I did—­as you felt I did.  I know now, what I only suspected then, and will tell you all the matter on Monday if you care to hear.  The ‘humanity’ however, would have been unquestionable if I had chosen to exercise it towards the poor weak incapable creature that wants somebody, and urgently, I can well believe.

As for your apologue, it is naught—­as you felt, and so broke off—­for the baron knew well enough it was a spray of the magical tree which once planted in his domain would shoot up, and out, and all round, and be glorious with leaves and musical with birds’ nests, and a fairy safeguard and blessing thenceforward and for ever, when the foolish baton had been broken into ounces of gold, even if gold it were, and spent and vanished:  for, he said, such gold lies in the highway, men pick it up, more of it or less; but this one slip of the flowering tree is all of it on this side Paradise.  Whereon he laid it to his heart and was happy—­in spite of his disastrous chase the night before, when so far from catching an unicorn, he saw not even a respectable prize-heifer, worth the oil-cake and rape-seed it had doubtless cost to rear her—­’insolence!’

I found no opportunity of speaking to Mr. K. about Monday, but nothing was said of last Wednesday, and he must know I did not go yesterday.  So, Monday is laughing in sunshine surely!  Bless you, my sweetest.  I love you with my whole heart; ever shall love you.