[Paris]: Monday, May 6, 1856 [postmark].

My dearest Mona Nina,--Your letter makes me feel very uncomfortable. We
are in real difficulty about our dear friend Mr. Kenyon, the impulse
being, of course, that Robert should go at once, and then the fear
coming that it might be an annoyance, an intrusion, something the
farthest from what it should be at all. If you had been more
explicit--_you_--and we could know what was in your mind when you 'ask'
Robert to come, my dear friend, then it would be all easier. If we could
but know whether anything passed between you and Miss Bayley on this
subject, or whether it is entirely out of your own head that you wish
Robert to come. I thought about it yesterday, till I went to bed at
eight o'clock with headache. Shall I tell you something in your ear? It
is easier for a rich man to enter, after all, into the kingdom of heaven
than into the full advantages of real human tenderness. Robert would
give much at this moment to be allowed to go to dearest Mr. Kenyon, sit
up with him, hold his hand, speak a good loving word to him. This would
be privilege to him and to me; and love and gratitude on our parts
justified us in _asking_ to be allowed to do it. Twice we have asked.
The first time a very kind but decided negative was returned to us on
the part of our friend. Yesterday we again asked. Yesterday I wrote to
say that it would be _consolation_ to us if Robert might go--if we might
say so without 'teasing.' To-morrow, in the case of Miss Bayley sending
a consent, even on her own part, Robert will set off instantly; but
without an encouraging word from her--my dear friend, do you not see
that it might really vex dearest Mr. Kenyon? Observe, we have no more
right of intruding than you would have if you forced your way upstairs.
It's a wretched world, where we can't express an honest affection
honestly without half appearing indelicate to ourselves; nothing proves
more how the dirt of the world is up to our chins, and I think I had my
headache yesterday really and absolutely from simple disgust.

You see, Robert might go to stay till Mr. Edward Kenyon arrives--if it
were only till then. I still hope and pray that our dearest friend may
rally, to recover at least a tolerable degree of health. He has certain
good symptoms; and some of the bad ones, such as the wandering, &c., are
constitutional with him under the least fever. You may suppose what
painful anxiety we are in about him. Oh, he has been always so good to
me--so true, sympathising, and generous a friend!

I shall always have a peculiar feeling to that dear kind Miss Bayley for
what she has been to him these latter months.

Now I can't write any more just now. Leighton has been cut up
unmercifully by the critics, but bears on, Robert says, not without
courage. That you should say 'his picture looked well' was comfort in
the general gloom, though even you don't give anything yet that can be
called an opinion. Mrs. Sartoris will be much vexed by it all, I am
sure.

May God bless you! Write to me. Robert's love with that of

Your ever affectionate
BA.

Did you observe a portrait of Robert by Page? Where have they hung it,
and how does it strike you?