26 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #35

Edith to Stuart
26.11.17
My Belovéd,
You spoke this morning as if you thought I did not care for your letters. That one to Lucy[1] was certainly very nicely worded and put together, but it was nothing like those you write to me. My letters are little bits of you, and just – perfect. I liked the new name in the last one, (Friday’s) very much. I wonder if you remember what it was? I expect not. But I like it, all the same. I thought I should not like it, because it is one that is used so lightly, but when I read it, I could just hear you saying it, and it sounded deep-down, and real, and true.
I have been reading Arthur Mee’s ‘Letters to Girls’. In fact, I am always reading them, because when I get to the end, I go back and start again at the beginning. But I have just finished the one “To the Girl who loves her Home”, and there are such nice bits in it that I thought I would write them out for. But I think it would be nicer to read the whole letter, and most of it applies to the Boy who loves his Home as well. I think you said Gladys had the book, but if you care to use mine --- it is yours.
I quite understand about yesterday, both the afternoon and the evening, and I think you did right in both cases. I really do not think Ivy wanted to go out, and if she did, she should have told me definitely on Saturday. Besides, I am not going to leave you at the last minute, like that. It is bad enough to have to leave you at all, and someday --- you know the rest, don’t you, Belovéd?
Good-night, my Dearest. I wish I could be with you now. You must be tired out to-night, after such a long day, and your rough walk home. I wish I could have met you when you went in – I will some day, perhaps. But now, I can only write it on paper. Good-night, My Dearest, Good-night, and here’s such a kiss for you, only you can’t feel it. Good-night, Belovéd.

The spikenard was not wasted;-
All down the tale of years,
The fragrance of that broken alabaster
Still clings to Mary’s memory,
As clung it’s perfume sweet unto her master.

Not less than Martha,
Mary served her Lord,
Although she but sat worshipping,
While Martha spread the board.

They also minister to Christ,
And render noblest duty,
Whose sweet hands touch life’s common rounds
To Fragrance and to Beauty.

[1] Lucy was a mutual friend of Edith’s.

(c) DearestBeloved 2009