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
Saturday, 17 October 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
Sunday, 11 October 2009
22 November 1917 Edith to Stuart - Letter #31
Edith to Stuart
22.11.17
My Belovéd,
The extra nice letter which I want to write to you seems doomed never to be written. I thought I should be able to write it to-night, for there is plenty of time, but I feel --- I can’t explain how, but tired. I thought several times today I could not stand up another minute. I waited about for a ‘bus to come home, until I could have been home, and the ‘bus passed me just before I got to the Bridge. But, you don’t want any grumbles, do you? so I will change the subject.
I have been reading through all your letters, trying to find something which I was sure you said in one of them, but I could not find it. If I had not been so sure, I should not have told you what I did last night. I thought you said in one of them that it would make no difference to your plans for the future whether they appealed to me very much or not, for you felt yourself bound to carry them out. I suppose you did not say this, for I cannot find the words, but, I hope, all the same, you will not let me influence you in any way to give up your plans, if you feel able to carry them out. And although, for some unknown reason, they do not appeal very strongly to me, yet that need not prevent us from being real partners. It is not your work, but you, that I want, and whatever you choose to do in the future, I shall know will be the best, and I will do all I can to help you in that work.
You said you were afraid if you were ordained, your work might interfere with your home life. Oh, Dearest, please, don’t allow it to. We hear so much of women driving their husbands away from their homes, because they are managed so badly, but I think there are just as many men who give their wives no encouragement in their work, and ruin their home-life because they take so little interest in it. We must not let this be the case with us. A woman was never meant to manage a home by herself, in fact, she can’t do it, not as it should be done. So, Dearest, if you have a home, I feel sure that your duty there comes before all else, and if you do not feel that you can put it first, you have no right to ask some one else to do what you feel unable to do. I hope, Dearest, you won’t think me hard in saying this, but I think we should both understand, from the beginning, that it will be as much as we can do between us to make our home what we want it to be. And I believe that if we succeed in making a Home, we shall have done the highest work possible, whether the Head of the House is a Clergyman, or --- anything else.
Now, Dearest, if this is a very hard letter, please remember that I am a bit tired. No, you need not, for that is no excuse for not writing you the very best possible letter, for that would not be so good as you deserve.
No, Goodnight, my Belovéd. May God bless you and keep you always – Goodnight.
Profit? --- Loss?
Who shall declare this good – that ill? –
When good and ill so intertwine
But to fulfil the vast design
Of an Omniscient Will? –
When seeming gain but turns to loss, -
When earthly treasure proves but dross –
And what seemed loss but turnes again
To high, eternal gain?
Wisest the man who does his best,
And leaves the rest
To Him who counts not deeds alone,
But sees the root, the flower, the fruit,
And calls them one.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
22.11.17
My Belovéd,
The extra nice letter which I want to write to you seems doomed never to be written. I thought I should be able to write it to-night, for there is plenty of time, but I feel --- I can’t explain how, but tired. I thought several times today I could not stand up another minute. I waited about for a ‘bus to come home, until I could have been home, and the ‘bus passed me just before I got to the Bridge. But, you don’t want any grumbles, do you? so I will change the subject.
I have been reading through all your letters, trying to find something which I was sure you said in one of them, but I could not find it. If I had not been so sure, I should not have told you what I did last night. I thought you said in one of them that it would make no difference to your plans for the future whether they appealed to me very much or not, for you felt yourself bound to carry them out. I suppose you did not say this, for I cannot find the words, but, I hope, all the same, you will not let me influence you in any way to give up your plans, if you feel able to carry them out. And although, for some unknown reason, they do not appeal very strongly to me, yet that need not prevent us from being real partners. It is not your work, but you, that I want, and whatever you choose to do in the future, I shall know will be the best, and I will do all I can to help you in that work.
You said you were afraid if you were ordained, your work might interfere with your home life. Oh, Dearest, please, don’t allow it to. We hear so much of women driving their husbands away from their homes, because they are managed so badly, but I think there are just as many men who give their wives no encouragement in their work, and ruin their home-life because they take so little interest in it. We must not let this be the case with us. A woman was never meant to manage a home by herself, in fact, she can’t do it, not as it should be done. So, Dearest, if you have a home, I feel sure that your duty there comes before all else, and if you do not feel that you can put it first, you have no right to ask some one else to do what you feel unable to do. I hope, Dearest, you won’t think me hard in saying this, but I think we should both understand, from the beginning, that it will be as much as we can do between us to make our home what we want it to be. And I believe that if we succeed in making a Home, we shall have done the highest work possible, whether the Head of the House is a Clergyman, or --- anything else.
Now, Dearest, if this is a very hard letter, please remember that I am a bit tired. No, you need not, for that is no excuse for not writing you the very best possible letter, for that would not be so good as you deserve.
No, Goodnight, my Belovéd. May God bless you and keep you always – Goodnight.
Profit? --- Loss?
Who shall declare this good – that ill? –
When good and ill so intertwine
But to fulfil the vast design
Of an Omniscient Will? –
When seeming gain but turns to loss, -
When earthly treasure proves but dross –
And what seemed loss but turnes again
To high, eternal gain?
Wisest the man who does his best,
And leaves the rest
To Him who counts not deeds alone,
But sees the root, the flower, the fruit,
And calls them one.
(c) DearestBeloved 2009
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