I adore you.
J.
Guernsey,
Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864.
Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer there to smile upon me; it is all over—I shall never again see the little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight years.
Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over the distance between our abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear memories.
J.
Guernsey,
Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865.
It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my sweet treasure, I send you a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my radiant and divine beloved.
J.
Guernsey,
Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866.