BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [15 JULY 1911]
BRACERS 17169. ALS. Morrell papers #95, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

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Battler’s Green,
Watford,
Herts.1^, 2
Sat. night

My Darling

I don’t know how this will get to the post, but if I possibly can I shall take it to the post myself before breakfast tomorrow. — I got here a little after 4; Lion carried me off to give sugar to the Shetland ponies, which are nice for animals, but I never like animals much. Then she took me to the orchard where we sat, and after tea to the garden — so I had much talk with her. She does seem rather improved. She is more disciplined, and her vanity seems less. I have always “got on” very well with her, with the uncomfortable feeling of all sorts of reservations in my mind, that didn’t seem to go with getting on well. But I feel the reservations less than usual this time. One thing that makes matters easier is that she used always to talk on the assumption that Alys and I didn’t get on, and I never gave her any right to make the assumption, yet I hardly felt I could deny it. This always made a problem, which now no longer exists. She talked of Alys, very nicely; she is really fond of her, as indeed she ought to be, for it was Alys who first discovered her when she was poor and miserable, and Alys has done much for her. She talked of course about religion, but not aggressively as she used to, so that there was no difficulty on that subject either. There is a German lady staying here — I haven’t mastered her name; she is a Doctor Juris and the head of some kind of philanthropy in Berlin. She is rather nice and at times amusing. She is religious, which is rare in Germans. We got into an argument; she and I had a contest as to which was to lay down the law; she conquered. After the ladies had gone to bed I had a longish talk with Bobbie. I do really like him a good deal; in many ways I think him better than Lion. He is perfectly sincere. He is worried by finding himself subject to the family meanness — I advised him deliberately to waste money sometimes, but although he agreed it was obvious he wouldn’t do it. — I thought Lion was not going to allude to you at all, but at dinner she told the maid not to clear off the glasses before dessert, and said you had protested against their being cleared off. Then she asked me directly whether I didn’t like you, so I said yes, I thought you were very nice. I found to my relief that I am now hardened, and got it out in the most natural way possible. She evidently liked you very much, but I was glad when she changed the subject.

Goodnight my Dearest Love. I will finish this in the morning. Only two days more before I come for what I try to think of as for ever.

At any rate there is no need to foresee the end. It will be heaven. I am so happy in the thought of it, my Beloved.

Sunday morning. Dearest, It was a joy to get your letter. First — I don’t know whether I can come tomorrow or not, but I hope I can. I must get breakfast here rather early, then telegraph to my young men to come at 12 instead of 5. In that case I can get to London about 3, and take the next train to Henley. I will wire in the morning whether I am coming or not. I can’t tell without Bradshaw. The young men are the fixed point.

Your letter is full of things. Yes I do wish to be with you in general talks sometimes. But I am sure that will be possible before long.

What you say about other affection I feel too. I have a feeling against more than one physical relation, tho’ even that I sometimes think is prejudice. But otherwise I don’t find any difficulty in giving to others. But in the main I have always had the other difficulty. I have given a good deed, and people have mistakenly thought I cared for them more than for other people, and then the process of disabusing them has been painful, and sometimes I have tried to give more than I had to give and the result has been bad. But ever since I became unhappy years ago I have found it easy to give much to many, but necessary often not to do so. Let us talk all this out with complete frankness — so far as we may. I think we feel almost exactly alike, only I have grown afraid of my feeling, through mistakes. Since my initial struggle, I have never felt any jealousy of you. I have never let my mind dwell on anything that could rouse it. We must talk fully about all such things.

I do feel the most absolute trust in you. I know that you might do things that would vex my instincts, but nothing that would be a blow to my reasonable love. And even my instincts are not so usual as they used to be. One grows too much ashamed of what seems mean and petty in feeling, for it to remain.

Goodbye my Dearest Life, my Joy. I do love you most dearly.

Your
B.

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