BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [28 MAY 1911]
BRACERS 17166. ALS. Morrell papers #92, Texas. SLBR 1: #169
Edited by N. Griffin. Proofread by K. Blackwell and A. Duncan

<letterhead>
Seventeen,
Carlyle Square,
Chelsea, S.W.1^, 2
Sunday night

My Dearest Life

Sunday in London is a dreadful day, with no letters coming in. By going to the main South-Western Post Office, I managed to post a letter which I hope will reach you by the first post tomorrow, and I hope I shall get a letter from you then too. I have had endless painful talk with the Whiteheads, both of them, till I am sick of the whole sordid coil. I am tired and my head is aching. I told them I had offered Alys bogus evidence if she wanted a divorce, and they thought the offer ought to be repeated — that it would probably not be accepted, but Logan would then be against anything else. I could not say anything definite, because of course even that would in fact involve you more or less, and you might feel it better to break. It wouldn’t of course matter to me, because none of my friends would believe it. For my part, I think it an excellent plan. Alys has a right to be free if she wishes it, and if she rejects that offer it shows that she only wants to ruin you, which she couldn’t admit even to herself. I shall hear tomorrow afternoon what Alys and Logan have said. Apparently they are likely to tell all their family. And that will make it harder for them to do nothing.

The Whiteheads were out this evening so I went to dine with the Sangers. He went off early to go to a play, and I was left with Dora. She didn’t say anything spiteful, and was rather nice, but not interesting.

Dearest, if you feel you ought to break with me now while there is time, don’t mind saying so. The danger — and it is very real I think — is that Alys will do something sudden in an access of rage, which she would no doubt regret all the rest of her life — but half an hour’s madness would be enough. If you feel it right to break now, I shall acquiesce. And it would not necessarily be for ever. But I would rather you decided in my absence and I would rather not see you again after you decideda — it would be too great a tax upon one’s strength. I do not feel that you are safe unless you break with me. I think it probable all will go well, but not certain. —b The plan of a bogus case has one great advantage, that if she accepts it her power is at an end — she can do nothing further ever. That makes me favour it, as well as other reasons. It is intolerable being in her power, and until there is a divorce that will continue. — You needn’t imagine you would be accepting a sacrifice on my part. The relief of being really free from her would entirely outweigh the apparent disgrace, which in any case would not affect my friends. And as far as I am concerned, there isc only one thing of real importance, which is to find a way of not losing you and yet not ruining you. Things like reputation and so on are the merest dross — even from the point of view of work and general usefulness they are of less importance, because now if I had to face life without you I should find it very hard to keep the energy necessary for work. Things go round and round in my head till I feel mad, and just wish it was all ended somehow, no matter how. If only one could fight them — it is doing nothing that is so trying. — The Whiteheads always depress me — I dare say I shall be thoroughly cheerful again when I get away — but I must say they have more reason this time than usual. The uncertainty is terribly trying. —

I am reckoning on arriving at Henley at 4.46 on Tuesday, if that is not too early for you, and you are not afraid of my coming. It is hopeless to try to tell you how I long for you. If you want me to come later, or not to come, please wire tomorrow to Carlyle Square. Dearest all this horror is making me love you more and more — But you mustn’t feel you are bound to me in any way — if you think it right to break, you must. But O my heart, life would be a parched desert without you — I would do my best, for your sake — but it would be so empty that it would be hard to achieve much of a life.

This is a foolish letter to send you and perhaps I am mad. But I can’t write anything else — Anything else would be untrue to what I am feeling. But don’t be afraid I shall be in a state of depression on Tuesday — while I am with you I shall forget the future and be utterly happy. Only now I must think of it, because things must be thought out and decided. Forgive this rigmarole. Now I must go to bed. Goodnight my soul. I feel like some foolish child at sea, who has risen on the crest of the wave till he thought he could reach a star, and now finds there is another descent to be gone down and the star is as inaccessible as ever. But reasonably I still think it will be all right.

Your loving
B.

• 1

  [document] Document 000092. Proofread against a colour scan of the original.

• 2

  [envelope] A circled “92”. The Lady Ottoline Morrell | Newington House | Wallingford. Pmk: CHELSEA S.W. | 1 AM | 29 MAY | 1911

Textual Notes

• a

  after you decided inserted

• b

  — inserted in left margin

• c

  is written over a