BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [4 MAY 1911]
BRACERS 17122. ALS. Morrell papers #54, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
Thursday afternoon

My Beloved

I have no business to be writing to you, but I must — the weather is so delicious, and I want you so much. I am sitting out of doors in the Fellows’ Garden, where one gets something of the beauty of Spring — tho’ I never really like made places — however, this is pleasant, and we might come here for a bit next Wed. morning if you would like it — there is never any one but the gardener here in the morning.

I have been reading scraps of poetry, and listening to the birds, and feeling full of happiness and longing for you. I came here before breakfast this morning, and it was lovely. Darling, I do long for tomorrow. You have never yet told me all about the poetry and books that you love, which you were going to do some day. When you have time and are not tired, you must. — At the time when I was at the crammer’s — from just 16 to 17½ — I read enormously — Shelley constantly, Milton a good deal, Carlyle, Mill, Herbert Spencer, Dante, and all sorts. Most of the time I had no one to talk to, so I read whenever I wasn’t working. Then a youth named FitzGerald turned up, who was civilized and intelligent — an American — I made great friends with him, and imagined him all sorts of things. He had an older sister who was very well educated — the first well educated woman I had known — had published a volume of poetry and was a great friend of Robert Browning. So I imagined that she also had all sorts of merits. She afterwards became Lady Edmond Fitmaurice, and is now Madame De Filippi. He married, but his wife died in a few months — then he took to drink, and after that he eloped with Mrs Henry Norman. Gradually, after I had known him only a few months, I came to hate him.

He came to dislike me, because I let him know what I thought of him. We were in lodgings tête-à-tête at the crammer’s, and it was hell. But we never quarrelled exactly, and when we both afterwards came to Cambridge I continued to see a great deal of him. He was queer and different from other people — I felt he gave me a knowledge of many things which I did not wish to get a first-hand knowledge of — so though I loathed him I still associated with him — it seems funny now, and I think it was perhaps more habit than anything else. Also I still admired his sister — it took me a long time to discover that she was an incredible bore. He afterwards became a very great mountaineer. He was the only person at the crammer’s whom I attempted to make friends with, and as you see it was not a success. Until my last term there, when he and I were together in lodgings, I was in the crammer’s house hearing all the disgusting talk — but I never told my people a word, because I was getting on with my work. — Now I must get on with my work of today, so goodbye, Darling.

I do hope you are getting rested and that Julian is not really ill. I hunger for you Dearest — all my thoughts are with you and waiting for tomorrow.

Your
B.

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