I believe I have thought of you every day for the last fortnight, and I remembered the birthday—and "everything." But I was a little cross, because I had heard nothing of you since Mr. Bray's visit. And I said to myself, "If she wanted to write she would write." I confess I was a little ashamed when I saw the outside of your letter ten minutes ago, feeling that I should read within it the proof that you were as thoughtful and mindful as ever.
Yes, I do heartily give my greeting—had given it already. And I desire very much that the work which is absorbing you may give you some happiness besides that which belongs to the activity of production.
It is very kind of you to remember Charlie's date too. He is as happy as the day is long, and very good—one of those creatures to whom goodness comes naturally—not any exalted goodness, but every-day serviceable goodness, such as wears through life. Whereas exalted goodness comes in brief inspirations, and requires a man to die lest he should spoil his work.
I have been ill, but now am pretty well, with much to occupy and interest me, and with no trouble except those bodily ailments.
I could chat a long while with you—but I restrain myself, because I must not carry on my letter-writing into the "solid day."
Letter to Mrs. Congreve, Christmas-day, 1864.
Your precious letter did come last night, and crowned the day's enjoyment. Our family party went off very well, entirely by dint of George's exertions. I wish you had seen him acting charades, and heard him make an after-supper speech. You would have understood all the self-forgetful goodness that lay under the assumption of boyish animal spirits. A horrible German whom I have been obliged to see has been talking for two hours, with the hardest eyes, blind to all possibilities that he was boring us, and so I have been robbed of all the time I wanted for writing to you. I can only say now that I bore you on my heart—you and all yours known to me—even before I had had your letter yesterday. Indeed you are not apart from any delight I have in life: I long always that you should share it, if not otherwise, at least by knowing of it, which to you is a sort of sharing. Our double loves and best wishes for all of you—Rough being included, as I trust you include Ben. Are they not idlers with us? Also a title to regard as well as being collaborateurs.
Journal, 1864.
Dec. 24.—A family party in the evening.
Dec. 25.—I read the Third Act of my drama to George, who praised it highly. We spent a perfectly quiet evening, intending to have our Christmas-day's jollity on Tuesday when the boys are at home.