"Thursday Mg
How are you; and Miss Bailey’s visit yesterday, and Mr K’s to-day. —(He told me he should see you this morning—and I shall pass close by, having to be in Town and near you,—but only the thought will reach you and be with you–) Tell me of all this, dearest.
How kind Mr Kenyon was last night and the day before! He neither wonders nor is much vexed, I dare believe—and I write now these few words to say so– My heart is set on next Monday, remember .. and the prize of Saturday! oh, dearest, believe for truth’s sake, that I would most frankly own to any fault, any imperfection in the beginning of my love of you,—in the pride and security of this present stage it has reached– I would gladly learn, by the full light now, what an insufficient glimmer it grew from, .. but there never has been change, only development and increased knowledge and strengthened feeling– I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours for ever. God bless you, and make me thankful!
And you will give me that? what shall 'save me from wreck'—but truly? How must I feel to you!
Yours RB"
"How must I feel to you?" No kill I? Poets.....or more precisely stated: Browning.
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