Comment
They both indicate that they are troubled by things in their lives, from the past and present but do not elucidate. He remembers her writing that she always felt like a black sheep and he writes that he’s having troubles at work, at “the plant,” setting up a kind of competition about which has had the most difficulties in life.
They re-read each other’s letters, to gleen more or to reinforce their feelings for one another, to bask in the other’s presence.
Roma asks Fred if he’s seen an article in the Ladies Home Journal about a young woman Gertrude and her coming out party. Her parents lost their first child, a son, at birth and so compensated with their second. Both parents are enamored by a young doctor, an obstetrician, appropriately named Job, for his dedication to his work with the poor families with many children. Gertrude has distain for such women who have so many children and who are so very poor. Her parents want her to marry Job, but she ends up marrying Lord Frederick. Roma’s interest in the story may rest in a comparison of Mr. B. who seems to have plenty of money and her Fred who has little money but is held in high regard in the community.
My little bunch of sweetness;
Yes, and that just means you. Beginning with the salutation and continuing intermittently through it several pages, and yet not enough, your sweet message that reached me via special delivery this bright Sunday morning at 8 o’clock, was weighted with sweet sentiment, kind thoughts, words and tokens of love and esteem. This letter brought no tears, but instead, a little world of joy, however, your reference to the chapter marked “finis” proves to me that you insist on exercising a woman’s prerogative by having the last word. Well dear, I am willing and readily yield you that privilege. How strange it is that I should acquire such a strong liking for a “black sheep.” I believe you said that you have been made to feel like one a long time—all your life. To me, that seems in your case, almost incredible. You seem to radiate so much sunshine and happiness. You are the very antithesis of gloom and sadness. Your vivacious spirit comes as a sunburst into any company. I cannot but conclude that the bitterness and anguish of soul and spirit that you have been compelled to suffer and endure have but acted or served as a crucible out of which has emerged a beautiful soul and noble character. Remember we become strong by bearing burdens. I am not given to complaining, but my dear, of sorrow and bitterness I have had much, yes too much; far more than has been good for me. In the past year or so it has at times been most acute and terrific and with scarcely enough grace to endure it. I like to think of that Persian philosophy—“And from my devoted Christian mother—God bless her—Oh what cares and sorrows she has borne! What a saintly soul she is—so untutored in the iniquity of the times. My dear, when I read of your desire to see me, which you so profusely express, and of the many complimentary adjectives you attach to me, I confess I almost—what shall I say—collapse. I dare not examine myself. I dare not ask myself the question—am I worthy? I fear the answer. There comes to my mind at this moment the well known words—“The heart is a dangerous steed and when given too much rein, may throw you.” I read and reread your letters, but that paragraph containing the sequence of your desires holds me fixed and fast. And then I read again—and study—and wonder—and say to myself, Can it be? You know that I admire you—that I trust you and, yes, that I love you. I enjoyed your description of the dinner party and also the elderly lady. I am sure all that they said about you was deserved. I certainly see no conceit in your telling me about it. I can’t for the life of me see why you thought of me at that time; I am so painfully conscious of my short comings, of how unprepared I am to cope with conditions at times and how unequal to occasion I so often feel. Your flattery is almost too much for me. To quote “how flattered and proud I always was to be with you”—why, pet that’s just the way I felt about you. I felt so very proud of you everywhere I was privileged to be with you.
The wounds of recent infliction, I am happy to say, are rapidly healing. Your forgiving spirit, your tender love, and your kind and sympathetic thoughts have been such a soothing balm. Some wise philosopher man has said “It is when we would do our best, that we so often do our worst.” and I think that in a measure fits my case. Your kind and tender love rests upon me like a benediction and makes me indeed happy.
I was out to church this morning and the singing impressed me so much. My thoughts so often turned to you, especially, while singing the first hymn; it was so sweet and beautiful and I remembered how sweet and how beautiful you looked the night we attended the service in the same church. You were dressed in that pretty dress—I think it was old rose. Your voice too was so sweet. It all is so fresh in my memory. Two girl friends from Ironton are here visiting Dr. Williams. They are friends of my sisters, who live in Ironton. They are High School girls and are quite interesting. We attended the band concert at Millbrook Park this evening. I enclose program also church bulletin.
Now my dear Roma Belle, don’t eat any more peanuts at bed time. You have had your lesson. As for those snake dreams—just tell me how big it was. Are you sure you killed it? I have been in Cleveland a number of times but don’t recall any of my dreams. I was in the Masonic Temple one evening last week (it was still daylight) and looked across to the roof of the skyscraper, where you and I took in the sights not so long ago. Oh, how often do I see things and places that suggest you!
Now, dearest one, the hour is growing late and I want this to reach you at Cleveland so I’ll hurry over to the station box for to-morrow morning’s early mail.
It is time to say good-night, but my, how I wish I were with you right now to seal a fond good night with a kiss of pure love and to caress you in fond and loving embrace. Many miles lie between us but the gap is filled with love and affection.
Longing to see you again, I am,
Most lovingly ever, F.B.W.
P.S. What is your next move?
Sunday night.
[Cleveland, Ohio, 11 PM, July 11, 1915.]
Dearest Fred:
This is Sunday early evening. The folks have all gone out and to rest my mind from my study, I always re-read some of your beautiful letters. They are so tender, so gracious and so loving. You have said they were sincere, and I have no reason to doubt you, and hope I never shall.
Dear, have you read “Gertrude’s Coming Out”, or something like that, in the July issue of the Ladies’ Home Journal? If not, please read it. I will make n-o- comment on it now, but will refer to it when I see you. I want to see you very, very much, more than I have ever wanted to a man in my whole life. I hope two weeks from today I may see you. I do not know yet where I am going, it will either be West Virginia or on the lake. I want to stay on the lake, but then, I won’t be able to see you, and I must, if only for once more.
I had a letter from Mr. Bower yesterday, and a special delivery this morning. I wrote to him yesterday afternoon, and told him to ask you something.
It seems so easy for you to memorize, I wish you could do some of this for me. My brain gets in such a whirl.
I really haven’t anything to write about, I just get to thinking and longing for you so, and then I write. I always feel so self conscious when writing to you, I can’t write what I would say. You can put your beautiful thots and feelings into words, I will have to sing mine to you.
It must be about six, so I will dress for dinner, but oh, how I dislike to eat alone. If you write as soon as you get this write 1901-E. 69th.
Love, Roma
[July 12, ]
To the sweetest girl I know;
“Sweet is the memory of distant friends.
Like the mellow rays of the departing sun,
It falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.”
I chanced upon these lines to-day, and as they contain such sublime thought, I want to use them as an introduction to my letter to you. Your letter written early Sunday evening reached me late this afternoon. I’ll not tell you how many times I read it. I had read a part of “Her coming out party” in the July number of The Ladies’ Home Journal, but since your suggestion I have read it all. I am wondering what your comment would be.
My dear little girl, you say my letters to you are “beautiful”—well pet, you do not know how I appreciate such flattering comment coming from you. You have been the real inspiration of every tender, gracious and loving thought I have had; the number I have had and continue to have is legion—only the few have I expressed and they, I assure you dearest one, come from a heart as sincere as you will ever know. I am writing to-night under difficulties. Things have reached somewhat of a crisis in my business affairs. Confidentially, I have asked to be released at the plant where you visited me. No definite action has as yet been taken. The future is quite uncertain and more or less chaotic. Reveal this to no one. I received a kind little note from Miss Hopper to-day. She spoke tenderly of you. She writes that she will teach this coming winter.
My dear Roma Belle, I want to see you so much, I have so much I want to say to you. Such a meeting as I anticipate having with you will be indeed “unique” in my life. It will indeed be a “heart to heart” talk.
Of all the influences that have touched my life you are the sweetest, dearest and most precious. The longings and yearnings for you have at times really been painful. My feelings can scarcely be expressed in words. It would tax the genius of a poet. I wish you were here to sing for me to-night. I feel the need of a cheering note. I am truly “hungry” I am just wondering what you are doing now—it’s just 9 o’clock Monday night. I am meditating now—out of the quiet I see you. You who are so fair, so pretty, so amiable, so sweet, so kind, so forgiving and so lovable. I can scarcely refrain from writing some things that lie, oh, so close to my heart, still I think I had better wait.
And now to you, dearest Roma, so precious and so dear, a loving good night kiss. May Heaven’s guardian angels keep watch over you and may to-morrow’s rising sun dispel all clouds of care and anxiety.
With tenderest love and affection, F.B.W.
Monday, July twelve.
QBA 