to you, only a terrace facing the grey wall of San Felice church, where
we used to walk up and down on the moonlight nights. But San Felice was
always a good saint to me, and when I had read and cried over those
verses from the 'Athenæum' (my husband wrote them out for me at the
reading room) and when I had vainly written to England to find out the
poet, and when I had all as vainly, on our visit to England last summer,
inquired of this person and that person, it turns out after all that
'Dinah' answers me. Do you not think I am glad?

The beautiful verses touched me to the quick, so does your letter. We
shall be in London again perhaps in two months for a few weeks, and then
you will let us see you, I hope, will you not? And, in the meanwhile,
you will believe that we do not indeed think of you as a stranger. Ah,
your dream flattered me in certain respects! Yet there was some truth in
it, as I have told you, even though you saw in the dreamlight more roses
than were growing.

Certainly Mr. Chapman will at last send me 'The Head of the Family,' and
then I will write again of course.

Dear Miss Mulock, may I write myself down now, because I _must_,

Affectionately yours and gratefully,
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.


* * * * *


_To Miss Mitford_