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.
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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