Stuart to Edith
Jan. 10 1918
My Belovéd,
Thank you very very much for your well-thought out and clearly expressed answer to my question.
I thought there was the vague dislike at the back of your mind and I was half afraid to ask you because I felt you would not like me to put the question by word of mouth.
Although, as you say, many blessings seem to have been withheld from me, yet on the other hand there is a very great deal to be thankful for. My position was a very difficult one, in fact I think no one could have blamed me if I had not undertaken the task of providing for 4 brothers and a sister. That position, however, was taken and I do not think I could have done as well as I have without Divine help. Anyway, I am not sure that that ought to be a real reason for ordination; I think there must be something more than the feeling of Duty. I should say one needs to be “on fire for souls”. I wonder what “a call” really is; perhaps one day I will ask Mr Grey’s opinion.
I agree with all you say about the service of daily life and that possibly I could do more good as layman than clerical, but I feel doubtful as to whether when we are Man and Wife I shall want to give much time to anything besides You and Home; in fact, I am not sure but that you ought to have it all, especially if our hopes are realized and our family grows larger.
I had practically made up my mind before, and now after what you have said I think I shall decide to put away (not altogether but on one side) thoughts of ordination and to try to fit myself to be the best of layman, to be a worthy mate for you, the Best of Women.
I can see I have overdone things in the past – I must go steadily on keeping as close as I can to things which matter and then perhaps, I hope it may so, I shall be guided in the right way. Before saying Goodbye, let me thank you for all you said, for your poetry-piece, and also for those words where you said you would fall in with my plans. Dearest, I don’t really want tha, what I want is that we should go on hand in hand and not that you should do things which you do not care for just to please me; little things given up are perhaps good but I do not think such a long strain at an uncongenial task would help us to bring to Perfection that Home and Family of which we dream.
Now Goodbye, again Belovéd, you make me feel again how wise and sensible you are, may I be worthy of you and your love, my Sweetheart. Goodbye, Best of Women, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Showing posts with label Dearest Beloved. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dearest Beloved. Show all posts
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
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
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
Friday, 18 March 2011
8 January 1918 Edith to Stuart - Letter #63
Edith to Stuart
8.1.18
My Belovéd,
I seems like an anniversary today; it seemed like one yesterday and it will be like one to tomorrow. Yesterday was the anniversary of the Beginning of Things, and I sometimes wonder if anything will ever be better than that Beginning. I never dreamed of anything half so wonderful as the joy you gave me on that day. So, by way of keeping that anniversary, I bought our picture. I did not exactly mean to buy it, but I went to look at my picture at Mowbray’s, and that is so very far out of reach (you see, I am not content with the one I have). Then I went to look at the other, and it was not in the window. I took courage, and went in to ask the price of it, quite expecting that it was out of reach also. But I was pleasantly surprised, and – I bought it. I think perhaps it was cheap because there is a little white tablet missing from the bottom of the frame. I can see the marks where the screens went in. Now, I can look at the picture as often as I like. I look at it, and wonder if that joy will be greater than the joy at the Beginning of Things (I think it will) I wonder, too, if you will sit on my bed like that, and bring me primroses. I hope it will be in the Spring time, so that you may. And then I pray one little tiny prayer, that God will make me worthy of that great joy, and responsibility. I think that picture will help me a lot. I cannot look at it without thinking of our future, our Home, and the earnest preparation which should be going on now; and I ask myself if I am doing anything which will hinder our happiness the least little bit.
Now, Belovéd, once more I must say, “Goodnight”. We are well on the way to the End of the Beginning, when I shall be with you always, Best of men. Hear me whispering this as you go to sleep, “I love you, I love – Goodnight.”
Through every minute of this day,
Be with me, Lord!
Through every day of all this week,
Be with me, Lord!
Through every week of all this year,
Be with me, Lord!
Through all the years of all this life,
Be with me, Lord!
So shall the days and weeks and years
Be threaded on a golden cord,
And all draw on with sweet accord
Unto Thy fullness, Lord,
That is, when Time is past,
By Grace, I may at last,
Be with Thee, Lord.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
8.1.18
My Belovéd,
I seems like an anniversary today; it seemed like one yesterday and it will be like one to tomorrow. Yesterday was the anniversary of the Beginning of Things, and I sometimes wonder if anything will ever be better than that Beginning. I never dreamed of anything half so wonderful as the joy you gave me on that day. So, by way of keeping that anniversary, I bought our picture. I did not exactly mean to buy it, but I went to look at my picture at Mowbray’s, and that is so very far out of reach (you see, I am not content with the one I have). Then I went to look at the other, and it was not in the window. I took courage, and went in to ask the price of it, quite expecting that it was out of reach also. But I was pleasantly surprised, and – I bought it. I think perhaps it was cheap because there is a little white tablet missing from the bottom of the frame. I can see the marks where the screens went in. Now, I can look at the picture as often as I like. I look at it, and wonder if that joy will be greater than the joy at the Beginning of Things (I think it will) I wonder, too, if you will sit on my bed like that, and bring me primroses. I hope it will be in the Spring time, so that you may. And then I pray one little tiny prayer, that God will make me worthy of that great joy, and responsibility. I think that picture will help me a lot. I cannot look at it without thinking of our future, our Home, and the earnest preparation which should be going on now; and I ask myself if I am doing anything which will hinder our happiness the least little bit.
Now, Belovéd, once more I must say, “Goodnight”. We are well on the way to the End of the Beginning, when I shall be with you always, Best of men. Hear me whispering this as you go to sleep, “I love you, I love – Goodnight.”
Through every minute of this day,
Be with me, Lord!
Through every day of all this week,
Be with me, Lord!
Through every week of all this year,
Be with me, Lord!
Through all the years of all this life,
Be with me, Lord!
So shall the days and weeks and years
Be threaded on a golden cord,
And all draw on with sweet accord
Unto Thy fullness, Lord,
That is, when Time is past,
By Grace, I may at last,
Be with Thee, Lord.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
4 January 1918 Suart to Edith - Letter #62
Stuart to Edith
Jan. 4 1918
Best of Women,
I must write a few lines this morning, I feel that you more than want them, and I hope they will be of some use to you; this sounds very conceited, I know (I wonder if it is so).
I think I do not quite understand what you wished to tell me, for I cannot believe exactly what you wrote. You drew a bad picture, Belovéd, but what I feel about it is this. You were tempted and you mistook the temptation for the sin; you felt that the suggestions to evil were the evil itself. I have felt that same thing many, many times, especially when I was fighting particularly hard against the evil which was my chief fault; evil suggestions would come and I got very downhearted.
But temptation is not sin, for was not Jesus tempted?
Again, I believe those who have the greatest temptations and conquer are those who make the best men and women; they may fall more often than those who endure less, but they are all the stronger and hardier for their struggle, they bear the honourable scars of a soldier.
This is very much what you once called “preachy stuff” and I fear I am sometimes inclined that way, but I would not have written this at all if I had not thought and hoped it would be of some use. You could say it all to yourself I know, but to have someone else say it makes a lot of difference.
Now for a little while, Goodbye. You are still and always will be I hope the Best of Women to me, you are my Great White Queen and I wish I could do more for your to show you how very precious you are to me and how far above me you seem, but, Dearest, Belovéd, Sweetheart, I will now say that we will be one and the same and we will go higher and higher till everything is Perfect, Home, Love, Character, everything.
This is for this morning, so I must not, as I have little time, say a long Goodbye, but just God be with you and keep you till I see you to night.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Jan. 4 1918
Best of Women,
I must write a few lines this morning, I feel that you more than want them, and I hope they will be of some use to you; this sounds very conceited, I know (I wonder if it is so).
I think I do not quite understand what you wished to tell me, for I cannot believe exactly what you wrote. You drew a bad picture, Belovéd, but what I feel about it is this. You were tempted and you mistook the temptation for the sin; you felt that the suggestions to evil were the evil itself. I have felt that same thing many, many times, especially when I was fighting particularly hard against the evil which was my chief fault; evil suggestions would come and I got very downhearted.
But temptation is not sin, for was not Jesus tempted?
Again, I believe those who have the greatest temptations and conquer are those who make the best men and women; they may fall more often than those who endure less, but they are all the stronger and hardier for their struggle, they bear the honourable scars of a soldier.
This is very much what you once called “preachy stuff” and I fear I am sometimes inclined that way, but I would not have written this at all if I had not thought and hoped it would be of some use. You could say it all to yourself I know, but to have someone else say it makes a lot of difference.
Now for a little while, Goodbye. You are still and always will be I hope the Best of Women to me, you are my Great White Queen and I wish I could do more for your to show you how very precious you are to me and how far above me you seem, but, Dearest, Belovéd, Sweetheart, I will now say that we will be one and the same and we will go higher and higher till everything is Perfect, Home, Love, Character, everything.
This is for this morning, so I must not, as I have little time, say a long Goodbye, but just God be with you and keep you till I see you to night.
(c) DearestBeloved 2011
Monday, 31 January 2011
3 January 1918 Edith to Stuart - Letter #61
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
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
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
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
3 December 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #40
Stuart to Edith
Dec. 3 1917
Dearest,
I must thank you for a most delightful and happy evening; it is useless for me to try to say how extra special nice it was, because I can’t, but it was one of the best, and although I don’t perhaps show you how I love you by passionate expressions, yet it goes very very deep, deeper than I should at one time have thought possible, too deep I am sure to be ever taken out. I could perhaps let myself go sometimes, as I did a little last night, but I am afraid of going too far and taking liberties. You are still, I feel and I hope I always shall, above me, to be reverenced, to be treated almost as something only; I cannot compare you with others, it is like comparing inferior metal to pure gold, for you are to me the purest, the noblest, the BEST.
I repeat myself (do I not?), but never mind; I am glad I feel so about you, whatever you think, for it makes me try always (or nearly always) to come up to where you are, and as I look ahead I feel I shall want you to help me a long way up.
A material home does not worry me, at all, for if I have been able to keep a home for sister and brothers, it seems a comparatively easy matter to keep one for ourselves (how do you like this thought?) and I don’t think the other side (shall I call it spiritual?) should cause me anxiety. As I look back I can see fairly well that distrust has helped very much our home difficulties, and I don’t see how it could be helped, for many many times have I found Gladys in debt; even in the last 12 months, I discovered she was owing more than £3.
But we shall not be like that, we shall as one, the breath, the fainted suspicion of distrust must not come between us. Please trust me always, I may do funny things at times but I love you very very much, when in doubt ask me or tell me somehow and I will try to drive it away.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, I expect I shall be late to-day, but I wanted to write all this; Goodbye you best and noblest of all, who have helped me so much, goodbye, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Dec. 3 1917
Dearest,
I must thank you for a most delightful and happy evening; it is useless for me to try to say how extra special nice it was, because I can’t, but it was one of the best, and although I don’t perhaps show you how I love you by passionate expressions, yet it goes very very deep, deeper than I should at one time have thought possible, too deep I am sure to be ever taken out. I could perhaps let myself go sometimes, as I did a little last night, but I am afraid of going too far and taking liberties. You are still, I feel and I hope I always shall, above me, to be reverenced, to be treated almost as something only; I cannot compare you with others, it is like comparing inferior metal to pure gold, for you are to me the purest, the noblest, the BEST.
I repeat myself (do I not?), but never mind; I am glad I feel so about you, whatever you think, for it makes me try always (or nearly always) to come up to where you are, and as I look ahead I feel I shall want you to help me a long way up.
A material home does not worry me, at all, for if I have been able to keep a home for sister and brothers, it seems a comparatively easy matter to keep one for ourselves (how do you like this thought?) and I don’t think the other side (shall I call it spiritual?) should cause me anxiety. As I look back I can see fairly well that distrust has helped very much our home difficulties, and I don’t see how it could be helped, for many many times have I found Gladys in debt; even in the last 12 months, I discovered she was owing more than £3.
But we shall not be like that, we shall as one, the breath, the fainted suspicion of distrust must not come between us. Please trust me always, I may do funny things at times but I love you very very much, when in doubt ask me or tell me somehow and I will try to drive it away.
Goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, I expect I shall be late to-day, but I wanted to write all this; Goodbye you best and noblest of all, who have helped me so much, goodbye, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
2 December 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #39
Edith to Stuart
2.12.17
My Belovéd,
On Friday I started a note to you, but I cannot think just where I put it, so you must have that one next time. I feel I must write something to give you in the morning, but it must be very short, for it is past eleven.
Dearest, I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this evening. I think it will always be one of the Red Letter Days. I do not think you took a liberty at all, because --- I am all yours. But, Sweetheart, I had a strange feeling, and I think you did, too, that it was dangerous, and must not be repeated often. I felt myself asking, “Why must we wait? Why must we wait?”
Of course, I know it is to our advantage all round, that we should wait. In fact, it is impossible for us to do anything else. But just for a little while, I felt very rebellious.
It seemed a long time ago. That I loved you so much I could not possibly love you any more. But I find, like you, that it grows. Each day, I feel that I love you more than before, and today, --- more and more than ever. And, Dearest, I like to come to your house so much. It is altogether different from you coming to our’s. I don’t know why, unless it is because it is your house, and may, perhaps, be ours someday.
Now, Dearest, I must say Good-night as it is nearly half-past-eleven, and I may hear something in the morning.
Good-night, my Dearest, I which I could make the weeks and months go faster and faster, (but I do not suppose they will be any too long for all we have to do.)
Once more, Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
2.12.17
My Belovéd,
On Friday I started a note to you, but I cannot think just where I put it, so you must have that one next time. I feel I must write something to give you in the morning, but it must be very short, for it is past eleven.
Dearest, I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this evening. I think it will always be one of the Red Letter Days. I do not think you took a liberty at all, because --- I am all yours. But, Sweetheart, I had a strange feeling, and I think you did, too, that it was dangerous, and must not be repeated often. I felt myself asking, “Why must we wait? Why must we wait?”
Of course, I know it is to our advantage all round, that we should wait. In fact, it is impossible for us to do anything else. But just for a little while, I felt very rebellious.
It seemed a long time ago. That I loved you so much I could not possibly love you any more. But I find, like you, that it grows. Each day, I feel that I love you more than before, and today, --- more and more than ever. And, Dearest, I like to come to your house so much. It is altogether different from you coming to our’s. I don’t know why, unless it is because it is your house, and may, perhaps, be ours someday.
Now, Dearest, I must say Good-night as it is nearly half-past-eleven, and I may hear something in the morning.
Good-night, my Dearest, I which I could make the weeks and months go faster and faster, (but I do not suppose they will be any too long for all we have to do.)
Once more, Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 18 October 2009
30 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #38
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.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Saturday, 17 October 2009
29 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #37
Edith to Stuart
29.11.17
My Belovéd,
Thank you very much for the note which you gave me this morning. I like it very much, in fact, I like it more than that, because I like all your notes very much, but this is one that is extra nice. It is not really very different from the others, only you had something different to say in it. My feelings, when Mrs Bennett gave us her gift, were very much like yours, but, perhaps not quite so marked, because I had felt so many times before. Her gift is not to me quite the first stone, because I already had several, although they were very small. Of course, it is the first one that has been given to us, but I have always regarded the others as being yours as well as mine. It is great and wonderful to think of ourselves as “Home-builders”. We are builders now, aren’t we? In fact, we have been builders for a long time. I think of it often through the day, and it is surprising how much it helps.
Do you remember last Thursday? I do. I love to think of those few minutes we spent together in the evening. Isn’t it strange how some little events stand out clearly from all others? I suppose I enjoyed those few minutes so much because I wanted you extra specially much, for I was feeling so miserable. One other time stands out as clearly, the very first Monday of all, in the boat. Oh, Dearest, I cannot tell you how I was felling that day; everything seemed as black as it could be. And then --- you know. It has all changed, for I had --- you. You did not say anything, but I knew almost as much then, as I did on that Wednesday evening. Monday left an impression almost, if not quite as deep as Wednesday. It was the First Day, and the beginning of it was very black for me. But the end ------------
“For clouds and darkness, and the still, small voice;
For sorrows bearing fruit of nobler life;
For those sore strokes that broke us at Thy feet;
For peace in strife; for gain in seeming loss;
For every loss that wrought the greater gain;
For that sweet juice from bitterness outpressed;
For all this sweet, strange paradox of life; ---
We thank thee, Lord”
Do you understand, Dearest?
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
29.11.17
My Belovéd,
Thank you very much for the note which you gave me this morning. I like it very much, in fact, I like it more than that, because I like all your notes very much, but this is one that is extra nice. It is not really very different from the others, only you had something different to say in it. My feelings, when Mrs Bennett gave us her gift, were very much like yours, but, perhaps not quite so marked, because I had felt so many times before. Her gift is not to me quite the first stone, because I already had several, although they were very small. Of course, it is the first one that has been given to us, but I have always regarded the others as being yours as well as mine. It is great and wonderful to think of ourselves as “Home-builders”. We are builders now, aren’t we? In fact, we have been builders for a long time. I think of it often through the day, and it is surprising how much it helps.
Do you remember last Thursday? I do. I love to think of those few minutes we spent together in the evening. Isn’t it strange how some little events stand out clearly from all others? I suppose I enjoyed those few minutes so much because I wanted you extra specially much, for I was feeling so miserable. One other time stands out as clearly, the very first Monday of all, in the boat. Oh, Dearest, I cannot tell you how I was felling that day; everything seemed as black as it could be. And then --- you know. It has all changed, for I had --- you. You did not say anything, but I knew almost as much then, as I did on that Wednesday evening. Monday left an impression almost, if not quite as deep as Wednesday. It was the First Day, and the beginning of it was very black for me. But the end ------------
“For clouds and darkness, and the still, small voice;
For sorrows bearing fruit of nobler life;
For those sore strokes that broke us at Thy feet;
For peace in strife; for gain in seeming loss;
For every loss that wrought the greater gain;
For that sweet juice from bitterness outpressed;
For all this sweet, strange paradox of life; ---
We thank thee, Lord”
Do you understand, Dearest?
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Friday, 16 October 2009
28 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #36
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 28 1917
Sweetheart,
I wonder what thoughts passed through your mind when you received Mrs Bennett’s gift. For myself, the seriousness and solemnity of our action and position seemed to come to me very strongly; it seemed to me, as it were the foundation stone, or at least the first stone in the building of the home which you and I are hoping for. Home-builders – how does that sound? I trust we may be successful and happy in that work, and that each will be able to supply the needs of the other.
Similar ideas ran through my mind at tea-time. You and I in our home; it moved me to the depths and I would have liked to have spoken some of the thoughts which were in my mind, but they seemed too deep to be dragged up, but I felt we knew each other’s thoughts and there was very little need for words.
Has your plan for making me happier succeeded? I think it has; for I have not felt that horrible depression which used to come so often, since I made a fresh start; friction and unkindness at home I have made up my mind not to notice, and as I am at home little I can easily ignore both.
It is you who have made this easy for me, you have made me brighter, you to have given me zest in my life, so that I feel now, instead of being overwhelmed by my work, that I can grapple with it and am master of it. Of course, I have many things yet to learn, but I feel myself capable of learning them.
You see I did remember the name, and isn’t it curious that my thoughts about it where just like yours? I think I told you your Mother used it once (the day you went to Tempsford) and it did not sound nice at all, but as I wrote it to you, it seemed to me just as it did to you “deep down and real and true”, and I am glad you liked it.
Twelve weeks have gone, gone like a flash, and we are nearer and dearer to one another than before. I have not the slightest hesitation now in saying “I love you”. I know I have made no mistake, and that is you for whom I have so long been waiting the fill up the gap; but you were worth waiting for!
I must not write more, except to say Goodbye to you, Belovéd, how I wish I could just say it to you, but I think of you always and you are the last in my thoughts every night, as you are first in the morning; the time is coming, and not so vary far away, when not only in thought but in person shall we be with each other night and morning.
Goodbye, my Dearest, help me to be all that you would have me be, all that is noblest and purest and best, help me to be fit to be your life’s companion. You that are to me all that is the very Best; no adjectives are adequate, not even superlatives, for in every thing, Belovéd, you are to me the very BEST. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 28 1917
Sweetheart,
I wonder what thoughts passed through your mind when you received Mrs Bennett’s gift. For myself, the seriousness and solemnity of our action and position seemed to come to me very strongly; it seemed to me, as it were the foundation stone, or at least the first stone in the building of the home which you and I are hoping for. Home-builders – how does that sound? I trust we may be successful and happy in that work, and that each will be able to supply the needs of the other.
Similar ideas ran through my mind at tea-time. You and I in our home; it moved me to the depths and I would have liked to have spoken some of the thoughts which were in my mind, but they seemed too deep to be dragged up, but I felt we knew each other’s thoughts and there was very little need for words.
Has your plan for making me happier succeeded? I think it has; for I have not felt that horrible depression which used to come so often, since I made a fresh start; friction and unkindness at home I have made up my mind not to notice, and as I am at home little I can easily ignore both.
It is you who have made this easy for me, you have made me brighter, you to have given me zest in my life, so that I feel now, instead of being overwhelmed by my work, that I can grapple with it and am master of it. Of course, I have many things yet to learn, but I feel myself capable of learning them.
You see I did remember the name, and isn’t it curious that my thoughts about it where just like yours? I think I told you your Mother used it once (the day you went to Tempsford) and it did not sound nice at all, but as I wrote it to you, it seemed to me just as it did to you “deep down and real and true”, and I am glad you liked it.
Twelve weeks have gone, gone like a flash, and we are nearer and dearer to one another than before. I have not the slightest hesitation now in saying “I love you”. I know I have made no mistake, and that is you for whom I have so long been waiting the fill up the gap; but you were worth waiting for!
I must not write more, except to say Goodbye to you, Belovéd, how I wish I could just say it to you, but I think of you always and you are the last in my thoughts every night, as you are first in the morning; the time is coming, and not so vary far away, when not only in thought but in person shall we be with each other night and morning.
Goodbye, my Dearest, help me to be all that you would have me be, all that is noblest and purest and best, help me to be fit to be your life’s companion. You that are to me all that is the very Best; no adjectives are adequate, not even superlatives, for in every thing, Belovéd, you are to me the very BEST. Goodbye, Goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 15 October 2009
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
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
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
26 November 1917 Stuart to Edith Letter #34
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 26 1917
Belovéd,
I hoped that I should be able to make this an “extra nice” note, but “the best laid schemes of men and mice gang all agley”. Our little piece of self denial was unnecessary as they were all home by 8.45 and although I wrote to Lucy[1], I was not able to write to you, the atmosphere did not seem quite right, so I must do the best I can this morning.
You understood I think why I came home last night and I thank you for not pressing me to stay. You know that you are first, but that I felt it my duty to give my time then to my home; I must warn you, however, that I am apt to carry that idea of duty too far, so that when I do, please tell me so.
I have been following your advice and thinking about the last person I was with (generally you) and wondering what I could do better.
I hope you quite understood what I meant about Ivy[2]. If you didn’t, it hurt; but I wanted you, ever so much, even although I offered to give you up for that little time. Perhaps I ought not to make such offers? But I know I want you very much indeed and I am afraid of wanting too much and taking what belongs to other people.
This is not so nice as I should have liked but it is 8.20 and I must hurry to say Goodbye to you, my Belovéd, my Dearest; I wonder if you anywhere like imagine all the happiness and joy you have brought to me; how the gloom of the past and the fears of the future have been dispelled and how your love has done it. May I be worthy of all this, is my constant hope; you know that in spite of all my blunderings, roughness and I do love you most dearly.
Now once more, Goodbye, Belovéd, may all things be good with you. Goodbye, goodbye, my Dearest and my Best.
[1] Lucy was a mutual friend of Edith’s.
[2] Ivy Constable was Edith’s friend. She became God-mother to Edith and Stuart’s son.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 26 1917
Belovéd,
I hoped that I should be able to make this an “extra nice” note, but “the best laid schemes of men and mice gang all agley”. Our little piece of self denial was unnecessary as they were all home by 8.45 and although I wrote to Lucy[1], I was not able to write to you, the atmosphere did not seem quite right, so I must do the best I can this morning.
You understood I think why I came home last night and I thank you for not pressing me to stay. You know that you are first, but that I felt it my duty to give my time then to my home; I must warn you, however, that I am apt to carry that idea of duty too far, so that when I do, please tell me so.
I have been following your advice and thinking about the last person I was with (generally you) and wondering what I could do better.
I hope you quite understood what I meant about Ivy[2]. If you didn’t, it hurt; but I wanted you, ever so much, even although I offered to give you up for that little time. Perhaps I ought not to make such offers? But I know I want you very much indeed and I am afraid of wanting too much and taking what belongs to other people.
This is not so nice as I should have liked but it is 8.20 and I must hurry to say Goodbye to you, my Belovéd, my Dearest; I wonder if you anywhere like imagine all the happiness and joy you have brought to me; how the gloom of the past and the fears of the future have been dispelled and how your love has done it. May I be worthy of all this, is my constant hope; you know that in spite of all my blunderings, roughness and I do love you most dearly.
Now once more, Goodbye, Belovéd, may all things be good with you. Goodbye, goodbye, my Dearest and my Best.
[1] Lucy was a mutual friend of Edith’s.
[2] Ivy Constable was Edith’s friend. She became God-mother to Edith and Stuart’s son.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
23 November 1917 Suart to Edith - Letter # 33
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 23 1917
Sweetheart,
Did it hurt you? you ask. Not one little bit. For on this subject my thoughts are as your thoughts.
Let me take the first part of your note first. What you thought I said I did say but I think I said it verbally one evening when you came to see me when I was laid up. Since then I have thought a good deal more about things. My earlier thoughts were all based on the idea that I should be single. I never imagined that I should meet any one who would care for me as you do, or for whom I should feel such love as I do for you, and these facts rather alter the outlook. I should not hesitate now, I think.
It is kind of you to say I must not let you influence me, but that I cannot obey; I do not think I speak too strongly when I say you always influence me, and as I have said before, for good. I will give you an example of what I mean. In the past before I knew you and before we found each other, I was often troubled with thoughts of which I was much ashamed, they were bad and yet try as I would, they returned periodically. I don’t think they ever come now; when I fear they are about to, I just think of you and there is no room for anything else. I might give you other examples which would all show the same thing, that you have lifted me higher than I was before, that you have helped.
I wanted to write a lot more, there is so much to-day of which I could write, but time has gone and even now I am afraid I shall be late; so goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, we are yet another day nearer to the time to which we look forward; I am, however, looking forward now to Christmas and the holidays, when I hope we shall have some happy times; perhaps as the time gets nearer, we can plan something, but now goodbye, tell me all that you think as I will try to tell you what I think, and then perhaps we shall get nearer that ideal we look for.
I want to be with you, but just think of me and remember I want to hug you as you read this, and that as the days go by, I love you more and more.
Goodbye, Sweetheart, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 23 1917
Sweetheart,
Did it hurt you? you ask. Not one little bit. For on this subject my thoughts are as your thoughts.
Let me take the first part of your note first. What you thought I said I did say but I think I said it verbally one evening when you came to see me when I was laid up. Since then I have thought a good deal more about things. My earlier thoughts were all based on the idea that I should be single. I never imagined that I should meet any one who would care for me as you do, or for whom I should feel such love as I do for you, and these facts rather alter the outlook. I should not hesitate now, I think.
It is kind of you to say I must not let you influence me, but that I cannot obey; I do not think I speak too strongly when I say you always influence me, and as I have said before, for good. I will give you an example of what I mean. In the past before I knew you and before we found each other, I was often troubled with thoughts of which I was much ashamed, they were bad and yet try as I would, they returned periodically. I don’t think they ever come now; when I fear they are about to, I just think of you and there is no room for anything else. I might give you other examples which would all show the same thing, that you have lifted me higher than I was before, that you have helped.
I wanted to write a lot more, there is so much to-day of which I could write, but time has gone and even now I am afraid I shall be late; so goodbye, Belovéd, my Dearest and Best, we are yet another day nearer to the time to which we look forward; I am, however, looking forward now to Christmas and the holidays, when I hope we shall have some happy times; perhaps as the time gets nearer, we can plan something, but now goodbye, tell me all that you think as I will try to tell you what I think, and then perhaps we shall get nearer that ideal we look for.
I want to be with you, but just think of me and remember I want to hug you as you read this, and that as the days go by, I love you more and more.
Goodbye, Sweetheart, goodbye.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Monday, 12 October 2009
22 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #32
Edith to Stuart
22.11.17
My Dearest,
I feel that I must just write a few lines to you to-night, because I wrote such horrid things in that other note. When I was with you, I felt quite suddenly that it would seem to you, when you read the note, as if I doubted you. You know, don’t you, Belovéd? that I do not doubt you one little bit. Oh, I hope you believe this. I cannot think what made me write as I did. And that’s not true, for I do know all the time. There’s a short of demon gets inside a woman at times, and makes all things look black to her, and makes her wonder if life is worth while, if it is worth will the trouble and pain. You must not think that these fits last long, or that they are worth noticing. Only, while they do last, they make us do thing for which we are terribly sorry afterwards, and which we would give anything to undo. Your faint suggestion of a home without a Man in it was – terrible. But that will never be, will it, Dearest, while you can help it? I know it will not, so do not let those words of min hurt you any longer, for I am sure they must have hurt you. And I found in one of your notes to-night that one of my former ones hurt you very much. I wonder if I had better writing to you, for I write such terrible things, which I do not mean a bit.
Of course, Dearest, you may do what you want to do, only, if I am Queen, you are king, and the King is very far above the Queen. The true homage is from the Queen to the King, so, - I may do what I want to sometimes, mayn’t I?
Now, I must say Good-night. I have written all this in bed, so I am afraid it will be difficult to read.
Good night, Belovéd, and thank you for to-night. It was only a few minutes, but it was just what I wanted. Oh, I love you so much, and yet, I have hurt you again to-night. I feel it so strangely. I wish I could give you this now, at once. But it must wait until the morning.
So, Goodnight, My Belovéd, Goodnight.
Pray that you may reach
That purest heaven, be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love,
Be the sweet, presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense.
So shall you join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
22.11.17
My Dearest,
I feel that I must just write a few lines to you to-night, because I wrote such horrid things in that other note. When I was with you, I felt quite suddenly that it would seem to you, when you read the note, as if I doubted you. You know, don’t you, Belovéd? that I do not doubt you one little bit. Oh, I hope you believe this. I cannot think what made me write as I did. And that’s not true, for I do know all the time. There’s a short of demon gets inside a woman at times, and makes all things look black to her, and makes her wonder if life is worth while, if it is worth will the trouble and pain. You must not think that these fits last long, or that they are worth noticing. Only, while they do last, they make us do thing for which we are terribly sorry afterwards, and which we would give anything to undo. Your faint suggestion of a home without a Man in it was – terrible. But that will never be, will it, Dearest, while you can help it? I know it will not, so do not let those words of min hurt you any longer, for I am sure they must have hurt you. And I found in one of your notes to-night that one of my former ones hurt you very much. I wonder if I had better writing to you, for I write such terrible things, which I do not mean a bit.
Of course, Dearest, you may do what you want to do, only, if I am Queen, you are king, and the King is very far above the Queen. The true homage is from the Queen to the King, so, - I may do what I want to sometimes, mayn’t I?
Now, I must say Good-night. I have written all this in bed, so I am afraid it will be difficult to read.
Good night, Belovéd, and thank you for to-night. It was only a few minutes, but it was just what I wanted. Oh, I love you so much, and yet, I have hurt you again to-night. I feel it so strangely. I wish I could give you this now, at once. But it must wait until the morning.
So, Goodnight, My Belovéd, Goodnight.
Pray that you may reach
That purest heaven, be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love,
Be the sweet, presence of a good diffused,
And in diffusion ever more intense.
So shall you join the choir invisible
Whose music is the gladness of the world.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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