Edith to Stuart
3.1.18
My Belovéd,
I want to tell you about last night, but I do not know whether I shall succeed. During the first part of our walk home, I was very wicked, and wanted to say things which I ought not, nasty, selfish things. When you said you wished you could get inside, I was very glad you could not, sometimes I wish you could, when you would find all nice, happy things inside. But just then you would have found the blackest, most selfish things you can think of. Then, Dearest, you reproved me, and in the best possible way. You did not know that you were correcting me, but that makes no difference. If you had known what was going on inside me, and had corrected me in the usual way, I should probably have been angry, and more selfish than ever. But you just showed me what was inside you, all good, and noble, and pure thoughts, with no trace of selfishness at all, Dearest. I was overwhelmed with what I saw in you, compared with what I had just seen in myself, and I cannot tell you how thankful I was that I had not said the wicked things I wanted to say. But having kept them to myself does not atone for having thought them. Belovéd, if I do sometimes say the bad things I think, you will be patient, won’t you, and you will know that soon I shall wish with all my heart that I could unsay what I have said. I thought I was safe from falling in that way, but last night showed me how careful I shall have to be, and how patient you must be. Do you understand all this?
Now, Dearest, I want to write about what you wanted to do, in fact, what you did. There is one part of me which would say “Yes” to anything you asked of me, no matter what it was. Though I do not tell you often, you know that I love you, and would do anything I can to make you happy. But, on the other hand, I know that what you want to do is just the wrong way about. Last night, I felt I just could not let you do it, because I felt so low down, and I knew you were far, far above me. So, Dearest, when you very much want to do it, you may; but I cannot feel that it is the right way round.
Goodbye, Belovéd, and Goodnight, and thank you, thank you over and over again for all you have done for me, and all you are to me. I expect it is always possible for love to grow, at any rate, my love grows, and grows, and grows.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Monday, 31 January 2011
2 January 1918 Stuard to Edith - Letter #60
Stuart to Edith
Jan. 2 1917
My Belovéd,
Although it is getting late, I very much want to write something to you to-night.
I wish I could find words to express all you have done for and are to me, that I could tell in convincing words that to me you are the Best, the most lovable, the Noblest of Women. I look round at other young women I know and there are few, at the moment I can think of none in the same street. I wish too I could make you feel all the happiness, joy and sunshine you have brought into my life.
Dearest, whatever may be my desserts, I am sure I have got the Best Woman. I wish the man you had got was the Best man; but, Sweetheart he isn’t, and he knows it, but he tries very hard, he wants very much to be somewhere like as good his Woman is, so that they may go on together hand in hand.
I am afraid that at the best I am only a rough diamond, the majority would not say that; I often feel I am not a fit mate for you, that I am too far down, how I wish I were the Man that you and a few other picture me.
Dearest, don’t let me hurt you; I was very much afraid I did to-night when I seemed to doubt your word, and again when I spoke about you telling me things. But I did not doubt you; Dearest, you know that is so, don’t you? You know that I trust you implicitly, all the way, because I know you are as true as steel all the way through.
And again when expressing your feelings, I know you can’t easily; they seem too sacred to speak about, we hesitated in the past because of ridicule being thrown at what was to us almost holy and the habit sticks. But Belovéd, we shall have heart-to-heart talks one day, when Goodbye will not be very frequent, when we shall have our own little home.
I have nearly been to sleep several times over this, so please excuse all defects, but I wanted to make you feel that you are to me the Best, and Noblest Woman in the World and that you have done so much for us.
Goodbye, Belovéd, I expect you are to bed now. I picture you in bed, let me kiss you goodnight and think of the days when we can sleep in one another’s arms, the days when we shall come to the full realization of the wonderful love which has been given to us.
Goodbye, Belovéd, Goodbye, Best of Women, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Jan. 2 1917
My Belovéd,
Although it is getting late, I very much want to write something to you to-night.
I wish I could find words to express all you have done for and are to me, that I could tell in convincing words that to me you are the Best, the most lovable, the Noblest of Women. I look round at other young women I know and there are few, at the moment I can think of none in the same street. I wish too I could make you feel all the happiness, joy and sunshine you have brought into my life.
Dearest, whatever may be my desserts, I am sure I have got the Best Woman. I wish the man you had got was the Best man; but, Sweetheart he isn’t, and he knows it, but he tries very hard, he wants very much to be somewhere like as good his Woman is, so that they may go on together hand in hand.
I am afraid that at the best I am only a rough diamond, the majority would not say that; I often feel I am not a fit mate for you, that I am too far down, how I wish I were the Man that you and a few other picture me.
Dearest, don’t let me hurt you; I was very much afraid I did to-night when I seemed to doubt your word, and again when I spoke about you telling me things. But I did not doubt you; Dearest, you know that is so, don’t you? You know that I trust you implicitly, all the way, because I know you are as true as steel all the way through.
And again when expressing your feelings, I know you can’t easily; they seem too sacred to speak about, we hesitated in the past because of ridicule being thrown at what was to us almost holy and the habit sticks. But Belovéd, we shall have heart-to-heart talks one day, when Goodbye will not be very frequent, when we shall have our own little home.
I have nearly been to sleep several times over this, so please excuse all defects, but I wanted to make you feel that you are to me the Best, and Noblest Woman in the World and that you have done so much for us.
Goodbye, Belovéd, I expect you are to bed now. I picture you in bed, let me kiss you goodnight and think of the days when we can sleep in one another’s arms, the days when we shall come to the full realization of the wonderful love which has been given to us.
Goodbye, Belovéd, Goodbye, Best of Women, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
1 January 1918 Stuart to Edith - Letter #59
Stuart to Edith
Jan. 1 1918
Best Belovéd,
I wonder in how many more ways I am going to be shown that it is the Best of Women who loves me! I feared I had hurt you and then you give me a lifting hand up again, just as you have lifted me from that dark depression which hung over me in the summer and early autumn. I felt yesterday after my talk with Reggie’s manager that I had been a little too inclined to bask in the sunshine which you have brought into my life and have perhaps neglected my duty at home; and yet I don’t quite see what I could have done at home, when as I expect you know, they have so clearly shown me that I was “de trop” as Corrie says. I know my nature is to think that I am the cause of the troubles in some way, but on that I will not dwell; I think that now there is a new spirit at home and I am going to try to foster it, even if it means apparently neglecting you a little; but, Sweetheart (always Sweet-heart I hope), I know you would wish me to “see this job through” and not, through any selfishness cause it to be a failure. Although it may hurt, I think you would have it so; it is the right sort of hurt, similar I suppose to that borne by women who have sent their men to fight and maybe die. If I am wrong, as I often am, in what I suggest, please tell me; I know I make many blunders for I have few if any besides you to give me advice which I feel is really what they think best. Even in the old days, a lot of advice Mrs. Turner used to give me was not followed because it seemed too selfish, but with you, my Woman, I shall be surprised if it is even so.
Although I said nothing more about Our Home, it is often in my mind, in fact only this afternoon have I been discussing homes (in general terms) and houses with one of our men and I smiled inside as we talked.
Do you know I don’t think my house is quite suitable? That is my latest idea; I think those further on would suit us better; there would be a little more room and for other reasons too, I rather think they would be better. It may seem foolish to write like this but I think it will help us later on in those days which I hope in 4 years or so will be with us, when I shall not visit you in the mornings for you will be with me, and shall not say Goodbye at night for we shall still be together, when I can come to you at dinner time and tea-time, when you will be all mine and I all yours. Belovéd, right deep down I feel that they are going to be happy days, perfect days, and as I think now very, very holy days, too good I fear for unworthy me.
Goodbye and Goodnight, Best of Women, you are not expecting this, so I hope it will be all the nicer. I hope this New Year may be a very Happy One for You and for Us that we may know each other better and better and love each other deeper and deeper if it is possible. Once more Goodbye and Goodnight, Sweetheart; I will try to keep your resolution too, and if I fail will tell you. Belovéd, Goodnight, God bless you and keep you always.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Jan. 1 1918
Best Belovéd,
I wonder in how many more ways I am going to be shown that it is the Best of Women who loves me! I feared I had hurt you and then you give me a lifting hand up again, just as you have lifted me from that dark depression which hung over me in the summer and early autumn. I felt yesterday after my talk with Reggie’s manager that I had been a little too inclined to bask in the sunshine which you have brought into my life and have perhaps neglected my duty at home; and yet I don’t quite see what I could have done at home, when as I expect you know, they have so clearly shown me that I was “de trop” as Corrie says. I know my nature is to think that I am the cause of the troubles in some way, but on that I will not dwell; I think that now there is a new spirit at home and I am going to try to foster it, even if it means apparently neglecting you a little; but, Sweetheart (always Sweet-heart I hope), I know you would wish me to “see this job through” and not, through any selfishness cause it to be a failure. Although it may hurt, I think you would have it so; it is the right sort of hurt, similar I suppose to that borne by women who have sent their men to fight and maybe die. If I am wrong, as I often am, in what I suggest, please tell me; I know I make many blunders for I have few if any besides you to give me advice which I feel is really what they think best. Even in the old days, a lot of advice Mrs. Turner used to give me was not followed because it seemed too selfish, but with you, my Woman, I shall be surprised if it is even so.
Although I said nothing more about Our Home, it is often in my mind, in fact only this afternoon have I been discussing homes (in general terms) and houses with one of our men and I smiled inside as we talked.
Do you know I don’t think my house is quite suitable? That is my latest idea; I think those further on would suit us better; there would be a little more room and for other reasons too, I rather think they would be better. It may seem foolish to write like this but I think it will help us later on in those days which I hope in 4 years or so will be with us, when I shall not visit you in the mornings for you will be with me, and shall not say Goodbye at night for we shall still be together, when I can come to you at dinner time and tea-time, when you will be all mine and I all yours. Belovéd, right deep down I feel that they are going to be happy days, perfect days, and as I think now very, very holy days, too good I fear for unworthy me.
Goodbye and Goodnight, Best of Women, you are not expecting this, so I hope it will be all the nicer. I hope this New Year may be a very Happy One for You and for Us that we may know each other better and better and love each other deeper and deeper if it is possible. Once more Goodbye and Goodnight, Sweetheart; I will try to keep your resolution too, and if I fail will tell you. Belovéd, Goodnight, God bless you and keep you always.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
31 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #58
Edith to Stuart
31.12.17
Your note was for tonight, but (please, I’m very wicked) I opened it as soon as I could this morning. It’s such a long time since we wrote anything, that I just could not wait, but went away upstairs, as soon as Mother was gone, and read it. I was not at all shocked, for in this case, as in many others, I am far worse than you are. I know, and God knows, how busy your are in the mornings and you have very little, or no, time to yourself. I often feel as you do in the evenings, too tired to pray, or read, or think properly. I do go through my prayers, but often I get to the end without having given the slightest attention to them. But in the mornings, sometimes I miss them out. Never altogether, because there are two or three little ones I always say in bed, and never on school days, because I would not dare to go to school without. But in the holidays, just when I might give most time to them, I am lazy, and get up so late, that I say to myself, “I will come back after breakfast”. Then – I forget. Now, while there is every excuse for you, there is none at all for me. I have my room to myself, and plenty of time, - the only reason is laziness, while yours is work. Now, Dearest, don’t worry about it, just try. I am never, never, going to miss mine again, - that’s a New Year resolution, and I’m going to tell you if I break it. Of course, I shall go on praying for my Best of Men. Dearest, remember every morning I want your prayers, but especially on school-days. We must help each other up, but you must help most, because you have climbed higher.
This is not very nice, Dearest, but I must say. Goodbye, my Best of men, and Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
31.12.17
Your note was for tonight, but (please, I’m very wicked) I opened it as soon as I could this morning. It’s such a long time since we wrote anything, that I just could not wait, but went away upstairs, as soon as Mother was gone, and read it. I was not at all shocked, for in this case, as in many others, I am far worse than you are. I know, and God knows, how busy your are in the mornings and you have very little, or no, time to yourself. I often feel as you do in the evenings, too tired to pray, or read, or think properly. I do go through my prayers, but often I get to the end without having given the slightest attention to them. But in the mornings, sometimes I miss them out. Never altogether, because there are two or three little ones I always say in bed, and never on school days, because I would not dare to go to school without. But in the holidays, just when I might give most time to them, I am lazy, and get up so late, that I say to myself, “I will come back after breakfast”. Then – I forget. Now, while there is every excuse for you, there is none at all for me. I have my room to myself, and plenty of time, - the only reason is laziness, while yours is work. Now, Dearest, don’t worry about it, just try. I am never, never, going to miss mine again, - that’s a New Year resolution, and I’m going to tell you if I break it. Of course, I shall go on praying for my Best of Men. Dearest, remember every morning I want your prayers, but especially on school-days. We must help each other up, but you must help most, because you have climbed higher.
This is not very nice, Dearest, but I must say. Goodbye, my Best of men, and Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
31 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #57
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 31 1917
Belovéd
It seems quite a long time since I wrote you my last note; I suppose it must be ten days or more; I wonder if I have forgotten how to write the kind you like.
I don’t think I am ever likely to forget just those few moments we had on Christmas Eve, they were to me one of those outstanding times, and especially nice was it when you came to me; do you remember, Sweetheart? I do, very very vividly. It was something of which I had often dreamed and which was then realised; I think it was the happiest time of all Christmas.
I have been trying to tell you recently many of the things which are deep down inside me, those things of which at one time I could not speak, things which show you what I really am, for I want you to know what a really am; I have felt over and over again that you have set me on high in your thoughts and I want you to know that your Man is not a lot better than other men, in fact I sometimes think he is worse in many ways, because he has had experiences such as few have had, which should have been stepping-stones. Dearest, I hope I shall not frighten you, but I feel very much as though I am losing touch with the things that matter. You must have heard how that in the past, I was a keen Church worker, especially on the more spiritual side, but my keenness seems to have gone and there no longer seems the life and help in things that there used to be.
For example, let me tell you what I think I have before. I used to read my Bible daily without fail – now I often omit it; and very often I forget (quite accidentally I believe) to say prayers in the morning and at night I am often too tired to say them properly.
Sweetheart, I fear this hurts you to read that your man is so clay-ey, you who are worthy of the Best that there is, but I think you should know the worst (if it is such) as well as the good things you imagine. I am not, however, content, to remain where I am, I continually struggle to get higher, to reach somewhere near to the beautiful character, which I see in you, you Noblest of Women. Please keep on praying for the Man who used to walk Alone.
Now I must tell you something better, something I just touched last night. It is this. I should not be surprised if the 4 years is sufficient, I can see glimmers of light and hope, I begin to think that I shall be able to do little saving almost at once towards Our Home and as time goes by, opportunities should increase; I cannot see anything very definite yet, but there seem to be signs of daylight on the horizon, the sun is almost ready to burst forth in all his glory and give us that glorious Day for which we are looking.
Goodbye, Belovéd, I seem to want you more and more as the days go by; it is less easy to say Goodbye quickly than it used to be, for there is one thought which I want to express always at such times, one you have often heard, but one which I trust and believe you will never tire of hearing, it – I love you; you the Best, the Noblest, the Purest, the Whitest of all Women, with whom there is no comparison and for whom only one word really suffices and that is – The Best.
Goodbye, God bless you, Wife to be; may the day quickly come when that “to be” may be erased.
P.S.M.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Dec. 31 1917
Belovéd
It seems quite a long time since I wrote you my last note; I suppose it must be ten days or more; I wonder if I have forgotten how to write the kind you like.
I don’t think I am ever likely to forget just those few moments we had on Christmas Eve, they were to me one of those outstanding times, and especially nice was it when you came to me; do you remember, Sweetheart? I do, very very vividly. It was something of which I had often dreamed and which was then realised; I think it was the happiest time of all Christmas.
I have been trying to tell you recently many of the things which are deep down inside me, those things of which at one time I could not speak, things which show you what I really am, for I want you to know what a really am; I have felt over and over again that you have set me on high in your thoughts and I want you to know that your Man is not a lot better than other men, in fact I sometimes think he is worse in many ways, because he has had experiences such as few have had, which should have been stepping-stones. Dearest, I hope I shall not frighten you, but I feel very much as though I am losing touch with the things that matter. You must have heard how that in the past, I was a keen Church worker, especially on the more spiritual side, but my keenness seems to have gone and there no longer seems the life and help in things that there used to be.
For example, let me tell you what I think I have before. I used to read my Bible daily without fail – now I often omit it; and very often I forget (quite accidentally I believe) to say prayers in the morning and at night I am often too tired to say them properly.
Sweetheart, I fear this hurts you to read that your man is so clay-ey, you who are worthy of the Best that there is, but I think you should know the worst (if it is such) as well as the good things you imagine. I am not, however, content, to remain where I am, I continually struggle to get higher, to reach somewhere near to the beautiful character, which I see in you, you Noblest of Women. Please keep on praying for the Man who used to walk Alone.
Now I must tell you something better, something I just touched last night. It is this. I should not be surprised if the 4 years is sufficient, I can see glimmers of light and hope, I begin to think that I shall be able to do little saving almost at once towards Our Home and as time goes by, opportunities should increase; I cannot see anything very definite yet, but there seem to be signs of daylight on the horizon, the sun is almost ready to burst forth in all his glory and give us that glorious Day for which we are looking.
Goodbye, Belovéd, I seem to want you more and more as the days go by; it is less easy to say Goodbye quickly than it used to be, for there is one thought which I want to express always at such times, one you have often heard, but one which I trust and believe you will never tire of hearing, it – I love you; you the Best, the Noblest, the Purest, the Whitest of all Women, with whom there is no comparison and for whom only one word really suffices and that is – The Best.
Goodbye, God bless you, Wife to be; may the day quickly come when that “to be” may be erased.
P.S.M.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
21 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #56
Edith to Stuart
21.12.17
My Belovéd,
Before I do anything else, I must just refer to one little bit in your last note, the bit where you said, “If you ever find any thing selfish in what I tell you of my home-life ---“. Dearest, I am sure that no-one who knows anything of the truth of your home-life, could accuse you of being the least bit selfish. I am sure there is no selfishness in it. To me, it seems that the past few years have been one long self-sacrifice on your part; and I hope I shall never say anything to you about your being selfish, for I am sure it would be untrue if I did.
I am writing this note under difficulties, while sitting on the rug drying my hair, - so please excuse all deficiencies. I enjoyed myself this afternoon shopping. I went alone, and came home loaded, so much loaded that at the last shop I went to I had to ask the man to put the parcel in my bag for me. I had a piece of holly as tall as myself, (which is now broken up, the holly, I mean) two full bags and a big parcel. My arms were stiff when I got home, but I felt so nice and Christmassy. Some of the folks I passed thought I was mad, I’m sure, for I sang quite out loud at times, and smiled at all the kiddies. I just wished I was taking that piece of holy home to our house, and that you felt as Christmassy as I did. I bought a book, too, for 6d (a 3/6 book) called “Woman’s Kingdom”, and it’s all about the “Home Beautiful”. There are some nice pictures in it, which I must show you someday and you must tell me what you think of them. There is a “Cottage dining room”, which looks just right and a tricky writing desk fixed in the wall.
It’s time to get supper, so I’ll have to say “Good-bye” once more. I am afraid there is not much in this to-night. I wish I could make it as Christmassy as I feel. Goodnight, my Dearest. I hope we shall soon have a real Christmas together. Then, I know you will not think it a lot of trouble for a little result. Goodnight, my Dearest and Best of men, Goodnight.
----------------------------------------------------------
This fire from God’s altar, this holy love-flame,
That burns like sweet incense for ever for you,
Might now be a wild conflagration of shame,
Had you tortured my heart, or been base, or untrue.
For angels and devils are cast in one mould,
Till love guides them upward, or downward, I hold.
I tell you, the women who make fervent wives
And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less fair,
Are the women who might have abandoned their lives
To the madness that springs from, and ends in despair,
As the fire on the hearth, which sheds brightness around;
Neglected, may level the walls to the ground.
The world makes grave errors in judging these things.
Great good and great evil are born in one bread;
Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings.
And the best could be worst, as the worst could be best.
You must think your own worth for what I grew to be,
For the demon lurked under the angel in me.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
21.12.17
My Belovéd,
Before I do anything else, I must just refer to one little bit in your last note, the bit where you said, “If you ever find any thing selfish in what I tell you of my home-life ---“. Dearest, I am sure that no-one who knows anything of the truth of your home-life, could accuse you of being the least bit selfish. I am sure there is no selfishness in it. To me, it seems that the past few years have been one long self-sacrifice on your part; and I hope I shall never say anything to you about your being selfish, for I am sure it would be untrue if I did.
I am writing this note under difficulties, while sitting on the rug drying my hair, - so please excuse all deficiencies. I enjoyed myself this afternoon shopping. I went alone, and came home loaded, so much loaded that at the last shop I went to I had to ask the man to put the parcel in my bag for me. I had a piece of holly as tall as myself, (which is now broken up, the holly, I mean) two full bags and a big parcel. My arms were stiff when I got home, but I felt so nice and Christmassy. Some of the folks I passed thought I was mad, I’m sure, for I sang quite out loud at times, and smiled at all the kiddies. I just wished I was taking that piece of holy home to our house, and that you felt as Christmassy as I did. I bought a book, too, for 6d (a 3/6 book) called “Woman’s Kingdom”, and it’s all about the “Home Beautiful”. There are some nice pictures in it, which I must show you someday and you must tell me what you think of them. There is a “Cottage dining room”, which looks just right and a tricky writing desk fixed in the wall.
It’s time to get supper, so I’ll have to say “Good-bye” once more. I am afraid there is not much in this to-night. I wish I could make it as Christmassy as I feel. Goodnight, my Dearest. I hope we shall soon have a real Christmas together. Then, I know you will not think it a lot of trouble for a little result. Goodnight, my Dearest and Best of men, Goodnight.
----------------------------------------------------------
This fire from God’s altar, this holy love-flame,
That burns like sweet incense for ever for you,
Might now be a wild conflagration of shame,
Had you tortured my heart, or been base, or untrue.
For angels and devils are cast in one mould,
Till love guides them upward, or downward, I hold.
I tell you, the women who make fervent wives
And sweet tender mothers, had Fate been less fair,
Are the women who might have abandoned their lives
To the madness that springs from, and ends in despair,
As the fire on the hearth, which sheds brightness around;
Neglected, may level the walls to the ground.
The world makes grave errors in judging these things.
Great good and great evil are born in one bread;
Love horns us and hoofs us, or gives us our wings.
And the best could be worst, as the worst could be best.
You must think your own worth for what I grew to be,
For the demon lurked under the angel in me.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
20 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #55
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 20 1917
It is not difficult for me to realise that when the time comes, we shall have one of the best of homes, perhaps I ought to say the Best Home for that is what it will be to me and I hope and believe to you.
We are getting more definite and practical in our ideas, we are beginning to see something real in our hopes and dreams and for my own part, I find it all the more helpful, it increases the pleasure and happiness with which I look forward. Sometimes, fairly often, I say to myself, but not impatiently “How long? Will that 3½ years be all, or will there be more?” I hope it will be all, that will be long enough to wait, but I look ahead and doubt whether I shall be ready by then. As I told you once, I can’t save now, it is all I can do to make ends meet, but possibly and probably things will improve shortly and I shall do my very best to be ready as soon as you are.
However, I think we are very fortunate. When I think of the ordinary man here at home, and compare myself with him, I feel I have many advantages; I expect I can meet you more often than any other man can meet his woman. Or if I think of men of my own age, they have all left their dear and loved ones behind while they have gone to fight; but I, Dearest, am still here, able to have those happy times with you, even when we are silent, and to think, when parted, of the next times we shall meet, and to look ahead into the future.
I hope if at any time you should see in me things which will be harmful in our home, that you will tell me, or if any of the things I tell you of in my home life now are wrong and selfish that you will tell me, for if I can help it, there must be no weeds in that beautiful Life we are hoping to live together.
Although I think of it, so often My Best of Women, I cannot realize anything of what it will be like, it seems too great, too wonderful for me to comprehend, but as I try to imagine it, I sometimes feel that such happiness is almost too good for this life; for I feel right inside me that we together are going to live the Best Life and have the best home that ever was or will be.
I must say Goodbye, as it is getting late and I have not dressed. I wish I could find words to express all that you have done for me and all that you mean to me, but you must be content with my saying that you have made my life better and happier than it ever was, that you are the Best of Women, my Queen.
What else I would say, you must imagine, and now Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Dec. 20 1917
It is not difficult for me to realise that when the time comes, we shall have one of the best of homes, perhaps I ought to say the Best Home for that is what it will be to me and I hope and believe to you.
We are getting more definite and practical in our ideas, we are beginning to see something real in our hopes and dreams and for my own part, I find it all the more helpful, it increases the pleasure and happiness with which I look forward. Sometimes, fairly often, I say to myself, but not impatiently “How long? Will that 3½ years be all, or will there be more?” I hope it will be all, that will be long enough to wait, but I look ahead and doubt whether I shall be ready by then. As I told you once, I can’t save now, it is all I can do to make ends meet, but possibly and probably things will improve shortly and I shall do my very best to be ready as soon as you are.
However, I think we are very fortunate. When I think of the ordinary man here at home, and compare myself with him, I feel I have many advantages; I expect I can meet you more often than any other man can meet his woman. Or if I think of men of my own age, they have all left their dear and loved ones behind while they have gone to fight; but I, Dearest, am still here, able to have those happy times with you, even when we are silent, and to think, when parted, of the next times we shall meet, and to look ahead into the future.
I hope if at any time you should see in me things which will be harmful in our home, that you will tell me, or if any of the things I tell you of in my home life now are wrong and selfish that you will tell me, for if I can help it, there must be no weeds in that beautiful Life we are hoping to live together.
Although I think of it, so often My Best of Women, I cannot realize anything of what it will be like, it seems too great, too wonderful for me to comprehend, but as I try to imagine it, I sometimes feel that such happiness is almost too good for this life; for I feel right inside me that we together are going to live the Best Life and have the best home that ever was or will be.
I must say Goodbye, as it is getting late and I have not dressed. I wish I could find words to express all that you have done for me and all that you mean to me, but you must be content with my saying that you have made my life better and happier than it ever was, that you are the Best of Women, my Queen.
What else I would say, you must imagine, and now Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
