I am sure you have been right to secure this pledge of independence to yourself: but it hurts me to think what a deadly offense it may be both to her tenderness for you and her pride and stern love of power. To realize suddenly that Hatterling does not mean to you so much as the power to be your own master and happy in your own way, which is altogether opposite to _her_ way, will be so much of a blow that at first you will be able to do nothing to soften it. February fill-dyke is likely to be true to its name, this coming one, in all that concerns us and our fortunes. Meanwhile, if at Pembury you brought things any nearer settlement, and are not coming so soon as to-morrow, let me know: for some things of "outside importance" do affect me unfavorably while in suspense. I have not your serene determination to abide the workings of Kismet when once all that can be done is done. The sun sets now, when it does so visibly, just where Pembury _is_. I take it as an omen. In your diary to-morrow you may write down in the business column that you have had a business letter from _me_, or as near to one as I can go:--chiefly for that it requires an answer on this matter of "outside importance," which otherwise you will altogether leave out. But you will do better still to come. My whole heart goes out to fetch you: my dearest dear, ever your own. LETTER L. Beloved: No, not Browning but Tennyson was in my thoughts at our last ride together: and I found myself shy, as I have been for a long time wishing to say things I could not. What has never entered your head to ask becomes difficult when I wish to get it spoken. So I bring Tennyson to tell you what I mean:-- "Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaaey? Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saaey." The tune of this kept me silent all the while we galloped: this and Pembury, a name that glows to me now like the New Jerusalem. And do you understand, Beloved? or must I say more? My freedom has made its nest under my uncle's roof: but I _am_ a quite independent person in other ways besides character. Well, Pembury was settled on your own initiative: and I looked on proud and glad. Now I have my own little word to add, merely a tail that wags and makes merry over a thing decided and done. Do you forgive me for this: and for the greater offense of being quite shy at having to write it? My Aunt thanks you for the game: for my part I cannot own that it will taste sweeter to me for being your own shooting. And please, whatever else you do big and grand and dangerous, respect my superstitions and don't shoot any larks this winter. In the spring I would like to think that here or there an extra lark bubbles over because I and my whims find occasional favor in your sight. When I ask great favors you always grant them; and so, Ahasuerus, grant this little one to your beautifully loving. * * * * *