It is very very hard not to be able to see each other, and that my poor Wifie should not have her husband with her {144} now--I think after this letter I shall be able to write you a few lines occasionally home, so as to save Wifie going to London, but if she writes to me in the same way she must be very careful and write very lightly and between the lines. A gold pen is, I think, better than a quill. The alarm about the legal adviser has blown over, so Queenie may direct as usual. The Paris failures don't concern us in any way, as everything is secure.[1] Give my best love to our little child, and take good care of yourself and it for my sake. YOUR OWN HUSBAND. _February_ 10, 1882. MY OWN QUEENIE,--I have received your note postmarked 7th, but have not had time to read it yet. I hope my darling will take better care of herself; that journey to London in the fog was most dangerous for her. I think that we shall probably be released by the middle of March, as it will be known then which way the tenants intend to go, and we shall be able to decide whether it is worth our while remaining here any longer. How does Queenie intend letting her husband know how she is? YOUR OWN LOVING KING _February_ 14. MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--To-day I have written you direct, sending a few words between the lines, just to see how it will answer. I find that rubbing with blotting paper after the words are dry takes away any glistening or appearance of letters. My own Wifie had best not try writing direct here, but send all her letters as usual, and continue to do so. The note I have just written goes out through a warder, and I think I shall always be able to manage in that way, but in case Queenie should get a letter from me through the Governor she will see it marked with his initials on the top left-hand corner, and in that case she might write me a commonplace letter direct here, but nothing between the lines.