Edith to Stuart
19.11.17
My Dearest,
I am afraid I hurt you terribly last night, and not only terribly, but most unjustly. I tried to tell you that when I am hurt, it is my own fault. You see, a woman notices such tiny little things, and makes them into great ones, instead of taking no notice at all. Then, in a little while, something comes out, and she sees the reason for the action, or word, which did not please her, and then she is angry with herself for being so blind, so stupid. I am not even a woman yet, so I am more foolish still. You must try to forget what I said, Dearest, at any rate, forgive me for saying it.
I know that you would not do anything to hurt if you could possibly avoid it, and that only shows again that it is absolutely my own fault. So you see I cannot make the promise you want me to make, because when I think a bit I find there is nothing in the things I make so much of. Dearest, I am afraid I am rambling on again, and you won’t be able to understand a word of this. It is always the case when I have something I especially want to say. I wish, as you did last night, that you could get inside me, and then you would know what is there. Perhaps you will some day. At any rate I hope so.
Now, just one serious question. How many times have I hurt you? I am afraid you will not be able to answer that question, because I must have hurt you so often. I wanted to ask you many times last night, but somehow, it would not come.
Now, Good-night, my Dearest. Don’t think about the stupid, thoughtless things I say. Let them pass, if you can; or, if not, just think, “She’s doing her best to be better. I must wait patiently until she is better”.
Goodnight, Belovéd, Goodnight.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
19 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #27
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 19 1917
Belovéd,
I wish I could write to you the letters I should like to write, or that I could express the thoughts which are so often in my mind, but above them all there predominates this one of “I love you” and yet words seem quite inadequate to express all that I feel and would say. I wish that I could show you more by my actions, all that you mean to me, how you have brought happiness to me, and a happiness which is daily increasing.
I am very sorry, my Dearest, that I hurt you at times; I was afraid you would very quickly find I was not the ideal you imagined me, I fear I am thoughtless and somewhat selfish and self-centred; I know that you forgive and I want you to help me to be better. I feel that you are so far above me in many ways and especially in the greatest of all, in character. You are to me, in spite of what you say to the contrary, all that is pure and noble and beautiful, and although perhaps you would not think it from my action, I might say I almost reverence you (I don’t think the word is too strong).
My life is, I am afraid, lived amongst people to whom the great and noble things of life mean little, their main object seems to make money not for themselves, ‘tis true, but I think this cannot but have a lowering influence; please help me with all your beautiful and noble thoughts and influences to come up higher.
I demand many things of you, don’t I? and offer little in return, but perhaps it will be to our mutual advantage. I look forward to those days when we shall be together, when our aims and thoughts shall be one, when we shall be in truth, and not only in words, “partners”.
I look forward, but I hardly dare think of those times; they seems too good, too ideal, and seem to take my breath away, but that they will come I have little doubt. I hope that, whatever the future may be and wherever it may be spent, I shall prove worthy of that confidence which you expressed in one of your notes; I have a long way to go, but please be patient with me; for I am trying my hardest to get up.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, never let me hurt you, if it is avoidable, and keep on helping me to be worthy of you, you Noble and Best of Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 19 1917
Belovéd,
I wish I could write to you the letters I should like to write, or that I could express the thoughts which are so often in my mind, but above them all there predominates this one of “I love you” and yet words seem quite inadequate to express all that I feel and would say. I wish that I could show you more by my actions, all that you mean to me, how you have brought happiness to me, and a happiness which is daily increasing.
I am very sorry, my Dearest, that I hurt you at times; I was afraid you would very quickly find I was not the ideal you imagined me, I fear I am thoughtless and somewhat selfish and self-centred; I know that you forgive and I want you to help me to be better. I feel that you are so far above me in many ways and especially in the greatest of all, in character. You are to me, in spite of what you say to the contrary, all that is pure and noble and beautiful, and although perhaps you would not think it from my action, I might say I almost reverence you (I don’t think the word is too strong).
My life is, I am afraid, lived amongst people to whom the great and noble things of life mean little, their main object seems to make money not for themselves, ‘tis true, but I think this cannot but have a lowering influence; please help me with all your beautiful and noble thoughts and influences to come up higher.
I demand many things of you, don’t I? and offer little in return, but perhaps it will be to our mutual advantage. I look forward to those days when we shall be together, when our aims and thoughts shall be one, when we shall be in truth, and not only in words, “partners”.
I look forward, but I hardly dare think of those times; they seems too good, too ideal, and seem to take my breath away, but that they will come I have little doubt. I hope that, whatever the future may be and wherever it may be spent, I shall prove worthy of that confidence which you expressed in one of your notes; I have a long way to go, but please be patient with me; for I am trying my hardest to get up.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, never let me hurt you, if it is avoidable, and keep on helping me to be worthy of you, you Noble and Best of Women.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
15 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #26
Edith to Stuart
15.11.17
My Belovéd
You must have misunderstood me last night, when I told you that your story hurt. It was not for myself that I was pained, but for you. Try to imagine how you would have felt if I had told that story to you. Would you not have been sorry? Would you not have wished that you had been near, to help me bear the heavy burden that had been laid upon me? Even when I told you that I was not happy at school, you were troubled, you sympathised; and that is as nothing compared to what you told me last night. You made me feel that it is time you began to live, not in the ordinary sense of the word, but in its real sense. You have had enough of Sorrow, now life should only mean Joy to you; and I wish with all my heart that I could put an end to your old life today, and that tomorrow, we could set out together on that new life, to which we look forward with such great expectations. But as that cannot be, we must do our best with the opportunities that we have and try to make life pleasant, in fact, really happy.
You said, last night, that you thought you ought to have told me before, I am sure you were quite right in not doing so. Suppose that on that Wednesday evening, the first Wednesday evening, you had told me your story before you told me --- the rest. I already knew that your life had not been a happy one, and I wanted to do all I could to make it happier in the future. So that it would have been very difficult to say “No”, to you, even had I wanted to. And, don’t you see, that if you had told your story first, it would have been still harder to say “No”. There would have been a feeling that I ought not to add one more sorry to your already heavy burden. On the other hand, as I was prepared to say, “Yes”, your story could not have made the least difference to me, in that way. Now, I wonder if I have made this quite clear, or if it is as badly expressed as some other things I have tried to say. At any rate, I must stop now. I hope you will understand and that you will be able to read this bad writing.
Now, Good-night, my Belovéd, and Good-bye. May God soon send to you the great Joy which I feel sure is waiting for your --- somewhere. Good-night.
Lord, when on my bed I lie,
Sleepless, unto thee I’ll cry;
When my brain works overmuch,
Stay the wheels with thy soft touch.
Just a quiet thought of Thee,
And of Thy sweet Charity, --
Just a little prayer, and then
I will turn to sleep again.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
15.11.17
My Belovéd
You must have misunderstood me last night, when I told you that your story hurt. It was not for myself that I was pained, but for you. Try to imagine how you would have felt if I had told that story to you. Would you not have been sorry? Would you not have wished that you had been near, to help me bear the heavy burden that had been laid upon me? Even when I told you that I was not happy at school, you were troubled, you sympathised; and that is as nothing compared to what you told me last night. You made me feel that it is time you began to live, not in the ordinary sense of the word, but in its real sense. You have had enough of Sorrow, now life should only mean Joy to you; and I wish with all my heart that I could put an end to your old life today, and that tomorrow, we could set out together on that new life, to which we look forward with such great expectations. But as that cannot be, we must do our best with the opportunities that we have and try to make life pleasant, in fact, really happy.
You said, last night, that you thought you ought to have told me before, I am sure you were quite right in not doing so. Suppose that on that Wednesday evening, the first Wednesday evening, you had told me your story before you told me --- the rest. I already knew that your life had not been a happy one, and I wanted to do all I could to make it happier in the future. So that it would have been very difficult to say “No”, to you, even had I wanted to. And, don’t you see, that if you had told your story first, it would have been still harder to say “No”. There would have been a feeling that I ought not to add one more sorry to your already heavy burden. On the other hand, as I was prepared to say, “Yes”, your story could not have made the least difference to me, in that way. Now, I wonder if I have made this quite clear, or if it is as badly expressed as some other things I have tried to say. At any rate, I must stop now. I hope you will understand and that you will be able to read this bad writing.
Now, Good-night, my Belovéd, and Good-bye. May God soon send to you the great Joy which I feel sure is waiting for your --- somewhere. Good-night.
Lord, when on my bed I lie,
Sleepless, unto thee I’ll cry;
When my brain works overmuch,
Stay the wheels with thy soft touch.
Just a quiet thought of Thee,
And of Thy sweet Charity, --
Just a little prayer, and then
I will turn to sleep again.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Monday, 5 October 2009
15 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Lettter #25
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 15 1917
Best Belovéd,
I have been turning over in my mind the story I told last evening and as I thought about it, it seemed to me it must have been very painful to you to hear such a story of shame and disgrace; I would that it were not true and that, for your sake, the past were unstained and unspotted, but painful though it was, my Dearest, I think it was right that you should know; and as I said last night, I wonder whether you ought to have known earlier, or at least whether I ought perhaps to have told your parents. I don’t think it would have made any difference, with you I know it would not, but it would with some people.
As to Saturday, I shall not be a little bit disappointed if we cannot go to Witney. I know you would not put it off if it could be helped, and if the cause is what I think it is, you are right in doing nothing which might be harmful to you; you know, don’t you, Belovéd, that that would hurt me too.
Time is gone, but I hope you were not very disturbed; it is after all the past, and it is all over; let us look forward to what the future holds in store, we have a long way to go yet, I hope and may all that way be happy for us.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, do not be hurt, for I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 15 1917
Best Belovéd,
I have been turning over in my mind the story I told last evening and as I thought about it, it seemed to me it must have been very painful to you to hear such a story of shame and disgrace; I would that it were not true and that, for your sake, the past were unstained and unspotted, but painful though it was, my Dearest, I think it was right that you should know; and as I said last night, I wonder whether you ought to have known earlier, or at least whether I ought perhaps to have told your parents. I don’t think it would have made any difference, with you I know it would not, but it would with some people.
As to Saturday, I shall not be a little bit disappointed if we cannot go to Witney. I know you would not put it off if it could be helped, and if the cause is what I think it is, you are right in doing nothing which might be harmful to you; you know, don’t you, Belovéd, that that would hurt me too.
Time is gone, but I hope you were not very disturbed; it is after all the past, and it is all over; let us look forward to what the future holds in store, we have a long way to go yet, I hope and may all that way be happy for us.
Now, Goodbye, Belovéd, do not be hurt, for I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Sunday, 4 October 2009
13 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #24
Edith to Stuart
13.11.17
My Dearest,
This must be the very briefest of notes, because time is short. Thank you very much for yours last night. I think I must have found it as soon as you put it in.
There is just one thing I want to say this morning, and then I must stop. Dearest, will you please not be very disappointed if I cannot come to Witney on Saturday. I hope I shall be able to, because I am looking forward to it so much. But you remember once before we arranged to go for a ride, and at the last moment, I could not come. I did not even know when I saw you in the morning that I should not be able to. You were very good then, and that was a long time ago. So I am hoping, in fact, I know, that you will forgive me if the same sort of thing happens again.
Now I cannot write any more, but I will write a long epistle this evening.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, Good-bye.
Two hands upon the breast, and labour’s done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest, the race is won;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut, all tears ease;
Two lips where grief is mute, and wrath at peace;
So pray we often-times, mourning our lot;
God, in His kindness, answereth not.
Two hands to work addressed, ay, for his praise;
Two feet that never rest, walking his ways;
Two eyes that look above, still, through all tears;
Two lips that breathe but love, never more fears;
So we cry afterward, low at our knees;
Pardon those erring cries, Father, hear these.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
13.11.17
My Dearest,
This must be the very briefest of notes, because time is short. Thank you very much for yours last night. I think I must have found it as soon as you put it in.
There is just one thing I want to say this morning, and then I must stop. Dearest, will you please not be very disappointed if I cannot come to Witney on Saturday. I hope I shall be able to, because I am looking forward to it so much. But you remember once before we arranged to go for a ride, and at the last moment, I could not come. I did not even know when I saw you in the morning that I should not be able to. You were very good then, and that was a long time ago. So I am hoping, in fact, I know, that you will forgive me if the same sort of thing happens again.
Now I cannot write any more, but I will write a long epistle this evening.
Goodbye, my Belovéd, Good-bye.
Two hands upon the breast, and labour’s done;
Two pale feet crossed in rest, the race is won;
Two eyes with coin-weights shut, all tears ease;
Two lips where grief is mute, and wrath at peace;
So pray we often-times, mourning our lot;
God, in His kindness, answereth not.
Two hands to work addressed, ay, for his praise;
Two feet that never rest, walking his ways;
Two eyes that look above, still, through all tears;
Two lips that breathe but love, never more fears;
So we cry afterward, low at our knees;
Pardon those erring cries, Father, hear these.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Friday, 2 October 2009
13 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #23
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 13 1917
Dearest,
This must be very short this morning, but I hope it will be sweet. Do you like something even it is not very nice? I do; I like to read your thoughts whatever they are, for I want to know you perfectly and I want you to know me as well, and there will then be little chance of making a mistake.
I talk a good deal of making mistakes don’t I? but you must not think that I am in any way doubtful – I am not; I am as sure of myself as I am of you, I feel that our love is the deepest and the best that there could be. I pray that it may continue to be so that we shall, as the days go by, find out more and more of its depths and the blessings and happiness we may each derive from it.
The future seems to hold so much happiness in store that I am almost afraid to look forward to it. The thought came to me last evening after I had gone to bed, that if I decide eventually not to be ordained, we shall not have to wait very long. Only until your school career has finished, and is that 5 or 4 years? I see that possibly “Bill” may not be gone[1], but I fancy you will not mind that, but that will be for you to say and after all this is at present, only a dream.
I must leave off, as the “hooter” has gone and I must not be late; I have written now because I shall be very late to-night, too late to bring you any thing, and – would you not rather have it in the morning?
Good bye, Belovéd, be happy all day (I am so glad you like it better) – one day nearer.
Goodbye, my Dearest. You have helped me so much; may I be as much of a help to you.
[1] Maurice Ernest Mills 21 May 1905 to 17 June 1921, known as Billy.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 13 1917
Dearest,
This must be very short this morning, but I hope it will be sweet. Do you like something even it is not very nice? I do; I like to read your thoughts whatever they are, for I want to know you perfectly and I want you to know me as well, and there will then be little chance of making a mistake.
I talk a good deal of making mistakes don’t I? but you must not think that I am in any way doubtful – I am not; I am as sure of myself as I am of you, I feel that our love is the deepest and the best that there could be. I pray that it may continue to be so that we shall, as the days go by, find out more and more of its depths and the blessings and happiness we may each derive from it.
The future seems to hold so much happiness in store that I am almost afraid to look forward to it. The thought came to me last evening after I had gone to bed, that if I decide eventually not to be ordained, we shall not have to wait very long. Only until your school career has finished, and is that 5 or 4 years? I see that possibly “Bill” may not be gone[1], but I fancy you will not mind that, but that will be for you to say and after all this is at present, only a dream.
I must leave off, as the “hooter” has gone and I must not be late; I have written now because I shall be very late to-night, too late to bring you any thing, and – would you not rather have it in the morning?
Good bye, Belovéd, be happy all day (I am so glad you like it better) – one day nearer.
Goodbye, my Dearest. You have helped me so much; may I be as much of a help to you.
[1] Maurice Ernest Mills 21 May 1905 to 17 June 1921, known as Billy.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Thursday, 1 October 2009
12 November 1917 Stuart to Edith - Letter #22
Stuart to Edith
Nov. 12 1917
My Belovéd,
I hardly know what to write to you to-night, for I feel that I have reached that stage which you wanted me to reach; I am more happy than I have been for a long time, and, as I said this morning, feel as if I had thrown off a great burden. I do not know why it should be so, unless it is because of the decision I have made with regard to my home life.
Whether that decision is best and the right one is doubtful to me; it seems such an easy way out, but no other appears to be of any use, so perhaps no harm will be done by letting them have a fairly free hand; I certainly feel very much better which is something.
It makes me very happy too, to know what a difference I have helped to make in your life, to know you feel so much happier and that life is not the burden it was; I hope I may always retain and use that power of making you happy.
Such a result will be helped, I think, if you will keep “up to the mark” and tell me as you have already done of things which I may omit to do; I think you will do so, because it will help to reach that happy, perfect ideal to which we are both so keenly looking forward.
You know now that my ideas of the future are very hazy and that I have yet made no definite decision; what I really want to do is to help others as much as possible to what I feel is the best, and I am not sure how that can be reached.
As a parson in England, one seems bound with so many conventions and much “red tape” that one cannot work as one would; I think that is why I looked further and turned to the Mission Field, where it seems to me, there is the opportunity for spreading Gospel in its truth and not hidden under so many other things.
Do doubt I could do good work as a layman but there seems so little time for that. If I remain at the Press, my hours will never be shorter than now and so I wonder what it best. I feel certain I shall be shown presently; my duty for the present is to do my best for my brothers and sister; when that is done, then I shall expect to see the next step.
I must write no more except to thank you for those last words of trust and confidence, I hope you will always feel so and more so as time goes on.
Goodbye – I like that “God be with you” – Belovéd, goodbye till morning.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
Nov. 12 1917
My Belovéd,
I hardly know what to write to you to-night, for I feel that I have reached that stage which you wanted me to reach; I am more happy than I have been for a long time, and, as I said this morning, feel as if I had thrown off a great burden. I do not know why it should be so, unless it is because of the decision I have made with regard to my home life.
Whether that decision is best and the right one is doubtful to me; it seems such an easy way out, but no other appears to be of any use, so perhaps no harm will be done by letting them have a fairly free hand; I certainly feel very much better which is something.
It makes me very happy too, to know what a difference I have helped to make in your life, to know you feel so much happier and that life is not the burden it was; I hope I may always retain and use that power of making you happy.
Such a result will be helped, I think, if you will keep “up to the mark” and tell me as you have already done of things which I may omit to do; I think you will do so, because it will help to reach that happy, perfect ideal to which we are both so keenly looking forward.
You know now that my ideas of the future are very hazy and that I have yet made no definite decision; what I really want to do is to help others as much as possible to what I feel is the best, and I am not sure how that can be reached.
As a parson in England, one seems bound with so many conventions and much “red tape” that one cannot work as one would; I think that is why I looked further and turned to the Mission Field, where it seems to me, there is the opportunity for spreading Gospel in its truth and not hidden under so many other things.
Do doubt I could do good work as a layman but there seems so little time for that. If I remain at the Press, my hours will never be shorter than now and so I wonder what it best. I feel certain I shall be shown presently; my duty for the present is to do my best for my brothers and sister; when that is done, then I shall expect to see the next step.
I must write no more except to thank you for those last words of trust and confidence, I hope you will always feel so and more so as time goes on.
Goodbye – I like that “God be with you” – Belovéd, goodbye till morning.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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