Letter from "Elisabeth," Jul 2, 1893

S. Hadley, July 2, '93. My Only One - I am lonely, yet happy - you are coming so soon. Oh how I love you, George! Do you think it will be the 22nd, dear? If I am in N. Y. then, how shall we arrange it. You shall send me a telegram as soon as you land saying just the hour when you will come to me? & then go to Stowsie's & come to me in three or four hours? it will be better I should know dearest, for then I can so arrange everything that the meeting may be just as we would choose to have it. I shall be very impatient, it will seem hard to wait. & yet other things might be harder. if you would rather come direct from the steamer to me you may, dear. & George you do not feel hurt that I think it better for you to go to Stowsie's? [?] You won't think I ask you to do this because - ahem - I am afraid I'll see too much of you? get tired of you so to speak. I can't understand some women. My precious lover, I did everything I could for you[r] dear sister. & sent her off happy, I think. The steamer was good & I think she'll have a pleasant voyage. I don't see why she shouldn't. she could be ill all the way. How strange it seemed to send her straight to you, very precious boy. I gave her many kisses, but none for you - the kiss for you I put on the little pink blossoms she will give to you. I bought the sweet peas just at the wharf for Alice, dear, and so I couldn't press yours! I wish Alice could have been with us longer. She shall be when she comes back. Dear, I think she will always be the happier for this year in Germany. After she had gone we bustled around & set off at 11.30 A. M. for S. Hadley - Minnie & I & the two babies. Oh such a hot tiresome journey - the children restless & Minnie is very tired. Darling I don't believe I can restrain till I go home with you. Perhaps I can when I go back to N. Y. for my sewing. I'll try to. & the baby had a dreadful night in the strange home & today we have had to tend him every minute. but he is better tonight - Gerald is an angel - oh so sweet. So I haven't been to church, but we have had a lovely walk to the college & about the grounds. 'twas pleasant to be here, but I missed my darling girls - & I found a letter from you my dearest - mailed June 21st. You had been reading Lilas [...]. I don't like Howells, I think. Yes, we shall have time to read novels. I love them. You don't mind, then, that I call you sweet? No for 'tis time. I don't know about trying again to make you understand why I use that adjective. I failed utterly once? and you must not mind, dear, [that I asked you to tell me that you love me. it isn't that I doubt, but that the words are so sweet. I hunger for them as a child for its mother's arms - no, as a woman hungers & pants for her lover's tenderness. Will you excuse me, that again I write to you in such an untidy fashion - with pencil, & a small envelope? - & a miserable pen to address the envelope with - I cannot do otherwise if I mail the letter at the usual time. I am glad you have kept on sending the letters to S. Hadley that was better. I think I [...] be there till the 15th of July, or thereabouts. I shall try to read some & to [...] some poetry for you. I hope you will have a blessed birthday, darling. How happy 'twill make me when I [...] you on that day. Thank you for the notes you sent from your friends - I always love to see them. My greetings to Mr. Buck - good bye now. Your own Elisabeth.