Boston, Decr. 11th, 1839—7 P.M.
Belovedest,
I am afraid you will expect a letter tomorrow—afraid, because I feel very sure that I shall not be able to fill this sheet tonight. I am well, and happy, and I love you dearly, sweetest wife;—nevertheless, it is next to impossibility for me to put ideas into words. Even in writing these two or three lines, I have fallen into several long fits of musing1. I wish there was something in the intellectual world analogous2 to the Daguerrotype (is that the name of it?) in the visible—something which should print off our deepest, and subtlest, and delicatest thoughts and feelings as minutely and accurately3 as the above-mentioned instrument paints the various aspects of Nature. Then might my Dove and I interchange our reveries—but my Dove would get only lead in exchange for gold. Dearest, your last letter brought the warmth of your very heart to your husband—Belovedest, 110 I cannot possibly write one word more, to-night.
This striving to talk on paper does but remove you farther from me. It seems as if Sophie Hawthorne fled away into infinite space the moment I try to fix her image before me in order to inspire my pen;—whereas, no sooner do I give myself up to reverie, than here she is again, smiling lightsomely by my side. There will be no writing of letters in Heaven; at least, I shall write none then, though I think it would add considerably4 to my bliss5 to receive them from my Dove. Never was I so stupid as to-night;—and yet it is not exactly stupidity, either, for my fancy is bright enough, only it has, just at this time, no command of external symbols. Good night, dearest wife. Love your husband, and dream of him.
Decr. 12th—6 P.M. Blessedest—Dove-ward and Sophie Hawthorne-ward doth your husband acknowledge himself "very reprehensible," for leaving his poor wife destitute6 of news from him such an interminable time—one, two, three, four days tomorrow noon. After seven years' absence, without communication, a marriage, if I mistake not, is deemed to be legally dissolved. Does it not appear at least seven years to my Dove, since we parted? It does to me. And will my Dove, or naughty Sophie Hawthorne, choose to take advantage 111 of the law, and declare our marriage null and void? Oh, naughty, naughty, naughtiest Sophie Hawthorne, to suffer such an idea to come into your head! The Dove, I am sure, would not disown her husband, but would keep her heart warm with faith and love for a million of years; so that when he returned to her (as he surely would, at some period of Eternity7, to spend the rest of eternal existence with her) he would seem to find in her bosom8 the warmth which his parting embrace had left there.
Very dearest, I do wish you would come to see me, this evening. If we could be together in this very parlour of ours, I think you, and both of us, would feel more completely at home than we ever have before in all our lives. Your chamber9 is but a room in your mother's house, where my Dove cannot claim an independent and separate right; she has a right, to be sure, but it is as a daughter. As a wife, it might be a question whether she has a right. Now this pleasant little room, where I sit, together with the bed-room in which I intend to dream tonight of my Dove, is my dwelling10, my castle, mine own place wherein to be, which I have bought, for the time being, with the profits of mine own labor11. Then is it not our home?
(Rest of letter missing)
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1 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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2 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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3 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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4 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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5 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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6 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
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7 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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8 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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9 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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10 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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11 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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