Good-bye, my sweet dear, and again, forgive me! I love you.

EMILIA.




LETTER XVIII.


GRAYSMILL, November 26th.

Bless you for all your words! Yes, you must come out to me next
spring, and then we three can be friends together: three should be
more beautiful than two, in such harmony as ours would be. I take it
for granted that you and Gabriel will care for each other; it would
be a great grief to me if you did not. I hate people I like not to
like each other; nothing hurts more--except, perhaps, to oneself
dislike a friend's friend.

My Greek is getting on; I am fearfully industrious, and have even
pinned up the declensions, written out in a large hand, on my
bedroom wall, so that I can learn them whilst I dress.

Gabriel is quite pleased with his pupil, and I have begun to teach
him Italian. He reads it very well, but cannot speak it at all at
present. We had a long talk, the other day, about his future. I
think it will be quite impossible for him to continue this mode of
life very long; I find that I am not so happy about him as I was at
first. Sometimes I think I should like to give him half my