To her husband in Liverpool, Mrs. Hawthorne writes:--
LONDON, September 19.
MY DEAREST,--At half past three Mrs. Russell Sturgis came in her
sumptuous barouche. We drove all through the fashionable squares and
Streets and parks, and all through Kensington, even to the real
Holland House. But Leigh Hunt's book went all out of my head when I
tried to think what he said about it. Mrs. Sturgis knows him very
well, and often visits him in his humble cottage. Oh, dear me! Such
superb squares and terraces as I saw! Mrs. Sturgis told me where Sir
E. B. Lytton, and many noted and noble persons, lived. We drove
through Mayfair, but I did not see Miss Cushman's house, I Bolton Row.
We certainly had a fine time. At five we got back, and I found the
Ambassador's card, and Miss Lane's, inviting us there this evening.
September 20. I was just hurrying off with Mr. Bright when I wrote the
two lines of post-script in my letter this morning, in answer to your
note,--so like you; so tender and kind. Since I must go away, I ought
not to have said a word; but you must ascribe what I said and say to
infinite love only; for it is only because of this that I do not look
forward with delight to a winter in Lisbon with the O'Sullivans. I
could not be happy if you made any sacrifice for me; and as our
interests are indissoluble, it would be my sacrifice, too. So I will
be good, and not distress you with more regrets. I once thought that
no power on earth should ever induce me to live without you, and
especially thought that an ocean should never roll between us.
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