8 January 1918 Stuart to Edith - Letter #64

Stuart to Edith
Jan. 8 1918
Sweetheart (“Deep down and real and true”!),
I have so many things I should like to say that I hardly know where to begin. Many, most perhaps, will be omitted but I will do what I can to show you some more of the workings of my mind, and to let you see me as I really am.
I must first thank you very very much for that photograph and its case; I have wanted one for a long time, and I think you could have given me nothing which would have pleased me more; that it was not ready by Christmas is a trifling detail which I hope you will quickly forget. I say “Goodnight” to you every night and kiss you and again in the morning you are in my mind; I could not forget you even accidentally for your photo rests under my pillow and would remind me if I should forget.
Somehow or other I could not tell you on Saturday when we were talking about ordination just what I wanted to say. I will try to write it; what is your real opinion about the matter? do you dislike the idea? do you think I am unsuitable? Put aside for the time, that thought, that black ideal, I once suggested of a Home without a Man; I hope that will never be so with us, and if we one day realize our hopes and dreams and are Man and Wife, I will do my very best to play my part. So dismiss that thought and tell me what you think.
I wonder sometimes too what you really think about me and Gladys and whether because I once told you you hurt, you refrain from tell me the whole truth and taking me to task for what I may have done wrong. Although I said I did not care, I did not mean I do not try to mend matters, but that I did not let it worry me as it used to. I cannot see (perhaps I am blind) that Gladys has much to complain of, for I study her as far as I can and lately I think more than ever, but I do not think she means things to be better, for she will often go out of her way to be unkind and rude (at lest so it seems to me). But, Dearest, I do try and am trying for the best; although honestly I do not think we shall improve much until she does what she says she wants and leaves Oxford.
Best Belovéd, I hope I do not trouble you very much by telling you all these difficulties of mine; I sometimes think I ought not to tell you, not because of any disloyalty to Gladys but because they must be a cause of sadness (if only a little) to you. They are not, however, very heavy burdens. I feel I have done and am doing my best and that I can do no more; but I look forward to another Home, Yours and Mine – Ours, where this kind of thing will be unknown, where selfishness will be forgotten, where Love and Unselfishness will be supreme.
You “run yourself down”, Sweetheart. You say I am far above you; I can’t agree to it at all; in fact one of the few things which make me a little anxious is that you should find me wanting. I thought once before, as I told you, that I had failed you; I felt if I had been all to you that I should desire to be, that you could have told me all your trouble and together we could have overcome it; I was very sorry I had not been able to come up to what I hoped but someday, soon, I hope I shall. Edith, you think me the Best of Men; what will you say when your eyes are opened and you see all my imperfections? That you will still love me I do not doubt, but will it be with the same great strong love now? Belovéd, it makes me anxious, although I think the answer is “Yes”, for I want to best from you, just as I am trying tto give the best to you.
In spite of what I said earlier, I do not expect to be ordained, and what you said about my house and our home, has led me to think more definitely than I have done yet. Some of your plans I can see materializing while others are very hazy; that is partly what I meant on Sunday when I told Elsie I did not believe all she was telling me for it seemed that my house would not be sufficiently large, but I can see now that you were probably thinking of a larger house to which we should have moved when the family was larger; we shall, however, see. Our ideas, I expect, are at present too big for our home, but it is of great use I should think to express them, it give us some idea of what we [are] aiming at, something of a pattern to follow. It seems to me that I should do best to be quiet and to leave the arrangements of everything to you, for then I feel confident that all will be of the very best; that I though a stickler for tidiness and cleanliness, shall have nothing to grumble at on that score and that for Beauty and Comfort our Home will be unsurpassed.
My Belovéd, I still think it possible that those 3½ years may see the time when I shall be able to say to you “Wife, this is Our Home”, when Goodnights will not be said to photos, but to the living person, when in practice as well as in theory, you and I shall be one.
This I pray earnestly for daily, and I feel it will all come true and the hope of such things more than neutralizes the little discomforts or the present. Goodbye and Goodnight, Belovéd; I have not said many things I wanted to, but only a very few for time is up and I must go back to my work.
Sweetheart, my Best of Women, I love you dearly, preciously; I feel there is no woman to be compared to you and I wish I could do more to show you something of what you are to me, but it is too great o talk of. I can only feel it within me, sometimes almost busting.
Once more Goodbye, Goodnight; may you find that School Life is better this term than last, may all things be well with you. I prayed “extra” for you this morning as you were re-starting and you have been more than ever in my thoughts to-day; but now, Belovéd and Best, Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.

(c) DearestBeloved 2011