4 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #42

Edith to Stuart
30.11.17
My Belovéd,
You will be surprised to see the date at the top of this, but I feel I must just write a few lines to you tonight, although I have nothing to say. And shall I whisper to you the time? It is now twenty minutes past eleven, and I am in bed, and shall soon be asleep.
I love to think of the time when you will come home to tea with me, and you think about it, too. Tonight, when you spoke of it, you made me think of “Meg”, in “Little Women”. I suppose you don’t know her, so I will tell you about her to-morrow. Now, Goodnight, my Dearest, Goodnight.

4.12.17
My Dearest,
The first part of this note is very queer, and I thought at first I would not give it you. But I wrote it for you, so you must have it. Meg’s story is too long to write; perhaps we will read it together someday.
Your last two notes have, I think, been the best of all. I agree with all you say about the Home-building, and I hope the talk may come soon. To me, our Home is already a very real thing, and I think about it a great deal, perhaps more than I ought. Especially in Church, I find it difficult to concentrate my thoughts on the proper things. They will do off to that time which is coming, when we shall really be together in our own Home.
I did not mean that Sunday evening was in any way irksome. You know, Dearest, that it was not. In fact, it was almost perfect. It was as perfect as anything can be, now, until the endings of our evening can be different. I love to think how strong you are. I have known for a long time the strength of your character, but now you have shown me your bodily strength as well. I should not have thought it possible for you to do what you did. I only hope it gave you as much pleasure as it gave me. Women always admire strength in men, and, I think, always like to feel that they have master. At any rate, I do. You are my Master, and --- I love you.
Now, Dearest, I must just warn you that you are doing what you accused me of doing once. You are putting me on a pedestal. Thank you, Dearest, more, more than I can say for the words at the end of your note. They were beautiful, but, I am sorry to have to say it, they were too good. I am doing my best to live up to your Ideal, but, sometimes I am very much afraid of falling. What if I do, Dearest? I do not fear that you will cease to love me. I don’t believe you ever will. But, you know, Belovéd, you are really and truly so far above me, that your disappointment will be terrible, I am afraid, when you know me, as I really am. But ---
“Love the strong and weak doth yoke,
and makes the ivy climb the oak.”
So, Dearest, you have to help me up to that ideal of Womanhood, of which you see possibilities in me. With you ready to help, and me longing to climb, perhaps we shall succeed between us. I hope, and pray, that we may, because, you Best of men, you deserve the Best of Women for your companion. I fear that I shall never be that, the Best of Women, but, I will come as near as I can.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.

E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E’en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit;
For I was flax, and He was flame of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

If all these glittering Monarchs, that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all;
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world’s but theirs; but my Beloved’s mine.

(c) DearestBeloved 2009