Well, dearest, if you have been patient with me over so much about
nothing, I pray this letter may appear to you written in gold. Why I
write so is, partly, that, it is bad for us both to be down in the
mouth, or with hearts down at heel: and so, since you cannot, I have to
do the dancing;--and, partly, because I found I had a bad temper on me
which needed curing, and being brought to the sun-go-down point of owing
no man anything. Which, sooner said, has finally been done; and I am
very meek now and loving to you, and everything belonging to you--not to
come nearer the sore point.
And I hope some day, some day, as a reward to my present submission,
that you will sprain your ankle in my company (just a very little bit
for an excuse) and let me have the nursing of it! It hurts my heart to
have your poor bones crying out for comfort that I am not to bring to
them. I feel robbed of a part of my domestic training, and may never
pick up what I have just lost. And I fear greatly you must have been
truly in pain to have put off Meredith for a day. If I had been at hand
to read to you, I flatter myself you would have liked him well, and
been soothed. You must take the will, Beloved, for the deed. I kiss you
now, as much as even you can demand; and when you get this I will be
thinking of you all over again.--When do I ever leave off? Love, love,
love till our next meeting-, and then more love still, and more!--Ever
your own.