_Salem_, December 20th (Friday morning), 1844
_Sweetest Phoebe_,
It will be a week tomorrow since I left thee; and in all that time, I
have heard nothing of thee, nor thou of me. Nevertheless, I am not
anxious, because I know thou wouldst write to me at once, were
anything amiss. But truly my heart is not a little hungry and thirsty
for thee; so, of my own accord, or rather of my own necessity, I sit
down to write thee a word or two. First of all, I love thee. Also, I
love our little Una--and, I think, with a much more adequate
comprehension of her loveliness, than before we left Concord. She is
partly worthy of being thy daughter;--if not wholly to, it must be her
father's fault.
Mine own, I know not what to say to thee. I feel now as when we clasp
one another in our arms, and are silent.
Our mother and sisters were rejoiced to see me, and not altogether
surprised; for they seem to have had a kind of presentiment of my
return. Mother had wished Louisa to write for us both to come back;
but I think it would not be wise to bring Una here again, till warm
weather. I am not without apprehensions that she will have grown too
tender to bear the atmosphere of our cold and windy old Abbey in
Concord, after becoming acclimated to the milder temperature of thy
father's house. However, we will trust to Providence, and likewise to
a good fire in our guest-chamber. Thou wilt write to me when all
things are propitious for our return. They wish me to stay here till
after Christmas;--which I think is next Wednesday--but I care little
about festivals. My only festival is when I have thee. But I suppose
we shall not get home before the last of next week;--it will not do to
delay our return much longer than that, else we shall be said to have
run away from our creditors.
If I had not known it before, I should have been taught by this long
separation, that the only real life is to be with thee--to be thy
husband--thy intimatest, thy lovingest, thy belovedest--and to share
all things, good or evil, with thee. The days and weeks that I have
spent away from thee are unsubstantial--there is nothing in them--and
yet they have done me good, in making me more conscious of this
truth. Now that I stand a little apart from our Concord life, the
troubles and incommodities look slighter--our happiness more vast and
inestimable. I trust Heaven will not permit us to be greatly pinched
by poverty, during the remainder of our stay there. It would be a pity
to have our recollection of this first home darkened by such
associations,--the home where our love first assumed human life in the
form of our darling child.
I hear nothing yet from O'Sullivan--nor from Bridge. I am afraid the
latter gentleman must be ill; else, methinks, he would certainly have
written; for he has always been a punctual correspondent, when there
was anything to write about.
Ownest Dove, I think I shall not go back to Hillard's. I shall be
ready to go back to Concord whenever thou art; but, not having the
opportunity to consult thee, I now propose that we settle our return
for Saturday, a week from tomorrow. Should anything prevent thee from
going then (for instance, the want of a girl) I may go and pay our
debts, as far as in my power, and then return. But this need not be
anticipated. There is no absolute necessity--(except in our hearts,
which cannot endure to be away from one another much longer)--for our
being at home before the first of January; but if all things are
convenient, we will not delay longer than Saturday. Oh, what sweet,
sweet times we will have.
Give Una a kiss, and her father's blessing. She is very famous here in
Salem.