BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, 16 JUNE 1911
BRACERS 17193. ALS. Morrell papers #116, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

In the underground
June 16. 11
<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.

My Dearest bed-ridden old woman

It was very sad leaving you today — I did long to stay — I wanted to stay and soothe you and make you rest — but alas that is what one can’t do in our circumstances. When I have scope I am a very good sick nurse — quiet and un-fussy. You might not have guessed it but it is one of my accomplishments, I learnt it looking after my grandmother.

It was nice having a few comfortable words with P — I felt quite easy, and so did he apparently. It is a very good thing — really you have managed us both amazingly well. I should have said it was impossible beforehand. I don’t want tho’ to minimize his merit which I think very great —

All my time is at your disposal. I don’t absolutely need to go back to Cambridge Monday and I can come up any time. My address here is

More’s Garden, Cheyne Walk S.W.

I will call then Monday morning about 12.20, so I can be with you any time after 12.40. A letter posted in Oxford Sunday morning would probably reach me at Dorking as it would not go through London. But better send it to More’s Garden.

Later. Dearest it was heavenly to be with you in spite of your being ill — I had expected you would be ill. But just being with you, in itself, is such joy. I should have gone on ever so long without knowing the best of you if circumstances had not compelled you to show it — it is knowing it that makes such peace when I am with you, without the need of any words.

Now I shall try to find the Whiteheads. Failing them, the Vaughan Williams’s, Courtneys, and (in the evening) Sangers.

Darling I fear all the worries of these months have done you harm and worn out your nerves. I am very sorry and feel guilty, but I hope now everything will be quiet. Only don’t let me come oftener than you can manage without worry. I must not get greedy — No praise of P. from you would rouse jealousy in me — it would only be his conduct, if it were quite different, that would. Goodbye my Life and my joy. I love you.

Yrs utterly
B.