There was nothing fatuous in this inward assurance; it was the simplest and most self-evidencing truth.

The word "mistrustful"-- "do not see me as long as you are mistrustful of"-- with its implied appeal to her generous confidence, precipitated the visit.

How could she be mistrustful?
Of course he may come: but the wish to do so was unwisely exorbitant.

On the afternoon of May 20th, 1845, Browning first set eyes on his future wife, a little figure, which did not rise from the sofa, pale ringleted face, great eager, wistfully pathetic eyes.

He believed that she was suffering from some incurable disease of the spine, and that whatever remained to her of life must be spent in this prostrate manner of an invalid.
A movement of what can only be imperfectly described as pity entered into his feeling for her: it was less pity than the joy of believing that he could confer as well as receive.