was more romance than I could ever fancy my life would witness.
All the time too about me was that beautiful, loving face about
me, and that dear, pure, sweet voice so loved � years ago!
I don�t know, guage as I will, my own heart on this matter.
When I wrote her name, those few seconds ago, I had a strange
quiver at heart. One would think the matter ought to be dead
enough, � but at all sorts of long intervals up-turn these resurrections
of buried hopes and day-dreams. I think of her, hardly as a
living woman now � (no word have I had of her for three years;)
buy as though she had retired into some Cloud-land, nevermore
to emerge from it. / I know not if by wishing it I could have
her for my wife; at all times I should wish it �
But a I write it, I think, Oh God! Yes! To have her,
whom you did so love, in your arms � never to part from each
other again in the world! ���
I think if ever I do marry, I shall, at all sorts of cold,
lonely times, be haunted with a sorrowful thought that Mary
Bilton should have been my wife. I drank so heartily at the
Circe-cup of Boy-love, I shall be intoxicated all my life. I
can fancy myself quite an old man, thinking of her, � of her
face, her hair, her songs, her beauty, of old time sunlight in
Kings Road and Leyton lanes.
I think I�d be willing to die now, could I weep out my
world-wearied heart on Mary Bilton�s bosom. A foolish thought.
Cowardly too, but I feel it.
21. Wednesday. Drawing till 3. Down town in the morning
to breakfast at Goslings, posted extensive letter for Boutcher, &
home newspapers &c. In afternoon, having supped at Erfords,