S. Hadley. College. July 18. [1893] Tues. Eve. It is so late I must go straight to sleep. My dear old darling. I love you. Why did I not always know that I loved you? I did know it long before you asked me. Ah, you never ask me at all. I forgot. I have loved you long, yet day by day there is renewed in me the old girlish passion, the trembling wondering joy of those first days of our - friendship - or love? both, ever since we first knew each other. The sweetness never grows old. Today its influence has been pecularly thrilling - & I have looked forward to the day of our meting with a trembling half-fearful rapture the mist creeping over my eyes. I wish I could dream of it now as I sleep - Thy Lisa.Thurs. Eve. Still in S. Hadley, an unexpected delay. Miss Edson heard yesterday of the death of a cousin in Whately, & asked me if I could not stay until Fri P.M. with Bessie & this big house, that she might to to her cousin's funeral. I was disappointed for I had planned to leave for [...] this morning. I was getting tired of S. Hadley again, but of course there was no reason why I should not stay, only Bessie & me in this great house, keeping house just as we like, having a fine time. A good watchman takes care of us at night, & during the day we are very busy. I am mending, dear, & doing other easy sewing, for my wardrobe must be quite in order by Aug. 22nd - [German phrase?] Even by Aug. 21st - Dearie, What if you should come the 21st? Oh perhaps you really will - that will be twelve days, you know. The passage ought to be smooth. Now, dear, suppose you land in the morning, or before late in the evening. Then you will stay away from 93rd St long enough for me to get a telegram? I cannot bear to ask you to do anything but come straight to me - yet 'tis better that you should send the message first & tell me just the minute when I shall see you. 117 W. 93rd. But if you land after seven in the evening I fear I must wait till the next morning to see you, George. That would be cruel. You might come to the house if the message could reach me by 8.30 & you by 9.30. That would be late, dear, but it would be right for you to stay an hour, but you would be too late at Stowsie's. oh, never mind, if it shouldn't be proper for you to stay with us you could go to a hotel till next morning - you will not take more than your breakfast at Stowsie's?
Dearest Boy. I had hoped to write much to you last evening, but I needed to help Miss Edson a little to look after the day's mails for her. Tonight Grace Near is coming up to stay with me, dear girl. I shall miss her so much next year, for she cannot be here then unless her health is better. I want you to remember her, dear, to talk with me about her, & to know her sometime.
I have a pretty new dress. I think you will like it, know you will, for 'tis becoming, 'tis blue of course, an India silk, a dainty white figure on dark blue ground, trimmed with blue & white, it's a beautiful blue with a sheen & light about which yet is not a brightness, & the touches of white lighten it too. I think it is quite effective, & I like that in dresses, if they are not dashing. I have made it for constant use this summer, to travel in & wear on the street if you know the India silks are used that way in summer.
II. Dearest, how I wish you were here. I've been sitting out on the South porch, alone, watching the moon above the trees. This is a lovely spot, but a lonely one tonight. It's a long time since I have had a letter from you - two will probably be waiting for me at Adams. Ah yes, this is the last night here, when I come back again I shall have seen you. Dear, you will come up here on your way to Harvard? You must go thru Springfield, you see.When Dr. Hitchcock was here last he said nothing in my hearing about Prof. Garman, but late in the Spring the report was that his health was miserable, growing more so, the move [...]table and unreasonable all the time. Dr. Hitchcock has very little patience with him, I see, one would hardly expect him to have - the two men must be as untterly different as two men could be.
I am afraid I do not know, now, of any place where Miss Herschman (?) would find work next year. I wish I did. I will remember about it.
And, dear, here is something you asked me to do long ago & I forgot & never did - to send you Columbian stamps. I am very sorry - forgive me, dear, please.Now I have a request to make of you, my obedient lover, for the last time I ask you - to do what, you guess? leave your curls long. oh, I can think how they will look, now! don't be afraid that you will seem to be aping the musicians, & don't let the barber get hold of the curls on the top of your head. I am very much in earnest about it, dear, not funning. I want to see them once very long & heavy. I know I should like it, since I was a child I can remember experiencing the keenest pleasure whenever I saw a man with a mass of heavy waving hair above his forehead. Yes. I think it's even preferable, to be bald, dear. You needn't exert yourself to attain the latter distinction if you will only avail yourself of the former. Good night, my darling. Your Lisa.