Friday forenoon
Will you let me come dear Susie - looking just as I do, my dress soiled and worn, my grand old apron, and my hair - Oh Susie, time would fail me to enumerate my appearance, yet I love you just as dearly as if I was e'er so fine, so you wont care, will you? I am so glad dear Susie - that our hearts are always clean, and always neat and lovely, so not to be ashamed. I have been hard at work this morning, and I ought to be working now - but I cannot deny myself the luxury of a minute or two with you.
The dishes may wait dear Susie - and the uncleared table stand, them I have always with me, but you, I have "not always," why Susie, Christ hath saints manieand I have few, but thee - the angels shant have Susie - no - no no!
Vinnie is sewing away like a fictitious seamstress, and I half expect some knight will arrive at the door, confess himself a nothingin presence of her loveliness, and present his heart and hand as the only vestige of him worthy to be refused.
Vinnie and I have been talking about growing old, today. Vinnie thinks twenty must be a fearful position for one to occupy - I tell her I dont care if I am young or not, had as lief be thirty, and you, as most anything else. Vinnie expresses her sympathy at my "sere and yellow leaf" and resumes her work, dear Susie, tell me how you feel - ar'nt there days in one's life when to be old dont seem a thing so sad -
I do feel gray and grim, this morning, and I feel it would be a comfort to have a piping voice, and a broken back, and scare little children. Dont you run, Susie dear, for I wont do any harm, and I do love you dearly tho' I do feel so frightful.
Oh my darling one, how long you wander from me, how weary I grow of waiting and looking, and calling for you; sometimes I shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you'll never go away, Oh you never will - say, Susie, promise me again, and I will smile faintly - and take up my little cross again of sad - sad separation. How vain it seems to write, when one knows how to feel - how much more near and dear to sit beside you, talk with you, hear the tones of your voice - so hard to "deny thyself, and take up thy cross, and follow me -" give me strength, Susie, write me of hope and love, and of hearts that endured, and great was their reward of "Our Father who art in Heaven." I dont know how I shall bear it, when the gentle spring comes; if she should come and see me and talk to me of you, Oh it would surely kill me! While the frost clings to the windows, and the World is stern and drear; this absence is easier; the Earth mourns too, for all her little birds; but when they all come back again, and she sings and is so merry - pray, what will become of me? Susie, forgive me, forget all what I say, get some sweet little scholar to read a gentle hymn, about Bethleem and Mary, and you will sleep on sweetly and have as peaceful dreams, as if I had never written you all these ugly things. Never mind the letter Susie, I wont be angry with you if you dont give me any at all - for I know how busy you are, and how little of that dear strength remains when it is evening, with which to think and write. Only want to write me, only sometimes sigh that you are far from me, and that will do, Susie! Dont you think we are good and patient, to let you go so long; and dont we think you're a darling, a real beautiful hero, to toil for people, and teach them, and leave your own dear home? Because we pine and repine, dont think we forget the precious patriot at war in other lands! Never be mournful, Susie - be happy and have cheer, for how many of the long days have gone away since I wrote you - and it is almost noon, and soon the night will come, and then there is one less day of the long pilgrimage. Mattie is very smart, talks of you much, my darling; I must leave you now - "one little hour of Heaven," thank who did give it me, and will he also grant me one longer and more when it shall please his love - bring Susie home, ie! Love always, and ever, and true!
Emily -
Will you let me come dear Susie - looking just as I do, my dress soiled and worn, my grand old apron, and my hair - Oh Susie, time would fail me to enumerate my appearance, yet I love you just as dearly as if I was e'er so fine, so you wont care, will you? I am so glad dear Susie - that our hearts are always clean, and always neat and lovely, so not to be ashamed. I have been hard at work this morning, and I ought to be working now - but I cannot deny myself the luxury of a minute or two with you.
The dishes may wait dear Susie - and the uncleared table stand, them I have always with me, but you, I have "not always," why Susie, Christ hath saints manieand I have few, but thee - the angels shant have Susie - no - no no!
Vinnie is sewing away like a fictitious seamstress, and I half expect some knight will arrive at the door, confess himself a nothingin presence of her loveliness, and present his heart and hand as the only vestige of him worthy to be refused.
Vinnie and I have been talking about growing old, today. Vinnie thinks twenty must be a fearful position for one to occupy - I tell her I dont care if I am young or not, had as lief be thirty, and you, as most anything else. Vinnie expresses her sympathy at my "sere and yellow leaf" and resumes her work, dear Susie, tell me how you feel - ar'nt there days in one's life when to be old dont seem a thing so sad -
I do feel gray and grim, this morning, and I feel it would be a comfort to have a piping voice, and a broken back, and scare little children. Dont you run, Susie dear, for I wont do any harm, and I do love you dearly tho' I do feel so frightful.
Oh my darling one, how long you wander from me, how weary I grow of waiting and looking, and calling for you; sometimes I shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you'll never go away, Oh you never will - say, Susie, promise me again, and I will smile faintly - and take up my little cross again of sad - sad separation. How vain it seems to write, when one knows how to feel - how much more near and dear to sit beside you, talk with you, hear the tones of your voice - so hard to "deny thyself, and take up thy cross, and follow me -" give me strength, Susie, write me of hope and love, and of hearts that endured, and great was their reward of "Our Father who art in Heaven." I dont know how I shall bear it, when the gentle spring comes; if she should come and see me and talk to me of you, Oh it would surely kill me! While the frost clings to the windows, and the World is stern and drear; this absence is easier; the Earth mourns too, for all her little birds; but when they all come back again, and she sings and is so merry - pray, what will become of me? Susie, forgive me, forget all what I say, get some sweet little scholar to read a gentle hymn, about Bethleem and Mary, and you will sleep on sweetly and have as peaceful dreams, as if I had never written you all these ugly things. Never mind the letter Susie, I wont be angry with you if you dont give me any at all - for I know how busy you are, and how little of that dear strength remains when it is evening, with which to think and write. Only want to write me, only sometimes sigh that you are far from me, and that will do, Susie! Dont you think we are good and patient, to let you go so long; and dont we think you're a darling, a real beautiful hero, to toil for people, and teach them, and leave your own dear home? Because we pine and repine, dont think we forget the precious patriot at war in other lands! Never be mournful, Susie - be happy and have cheer, for how many of the long days have gone away since I wrote you - and it is almost noon, and soon the night will come, and then there is one less day of the long pilgrimage. Mattie is very smart, talks of you much, my darling; I must leave you now - "one little hour of Heaven," thank who did give it me, and will he also grant me one longer and more when it shall please his love - bring Susie home, ie! Love always, and ever, and true!
Emily -
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