You tell me to write. I like nothing so well as to give you my thoughts, but I should tire you with their sameness if I were always to utter those most present.
Ever since our correspondence began, a long time, I have had to contend against an inclination to say or signify “I love you” – and to go in quest of foreign subjects.
I have burnt more letters that I have written to you for that offence.
And when you were here I so often appeared “the most silent woman in the world” because I could not think of anything else…
Will you prove your confidence in this assurance by returning before the papers are completed
They do not want an escort, and you have not mentioned any other business to detain you.
Take away a few of these wearisome, restless days to me, if not to you, and let me see that you love me.
Dearest Love, if you don’t come soon, the snow is beginning, and will keep you at a distance…
I am very ingenious in finding reasons for the annihilation of “time and space”.
Wish at least to return, if you do not.
Seaham Hall (December 6 1814)
Lord Byron’s Wife Malcolm Elwin (London: John Murray 1962)