Juliette.
Jersey,
Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854.
I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, admiration, and adoration I feel for you.
What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my heart in my eyes. It seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction—they are less amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from my mouth to yours.
Juliette.
Guernsey,
Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856.
It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, sweetest, most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow—it may be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing for your birthday. This is my request—now bring me your cheeks that I may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire and intact for me.
Juliette.
Guernsey,
Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856.
Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick child.[109] Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all disposed that way. You saw Suzanne yourself, my darling, yet someone is knocking—fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness!