Chipping Norton
June 12th 1877
My Darling Eugénie,
I sat in my chair for a little while after lunch on Monday waiting for the letter which I felt sure was on the road for me, and sure enough the postman soon brought it and I experienced once more that thrill of pleasure which my darling’s letters always produce, as usual I read it a dozen times and kissed your dear signature as I thought how you were indeed, my own affectionate Eugénie.
I am glad you liked most of the verses I copied out, some day I shall like to read “the Corsair” to you and then you will be the better able to appreciate the quoted passage when you hear the whole of the poem. I am not surprised that you have no intimate acquaintance with English poetry, especially as you have had the run of the literature of two languages, and it is a taste little, I think far too little, cultivated.
I heard from Charlotte to-day, she writes from New Cross, she says you wrote her “such a nice letter” lately, and so quickly in reply to hers, she also tells me that Lizzie Potter has broken off her engagement much to the satisfaction of her friends, and I think very likely it is better so however painful it may be at the time.
I hope to meet George in London on my way to Paris and then perhaps he will be able to tell me when to expect him home again within a week or two, and then, darling, when we meet and talk over the future we shall be able to judge whether he will be likely to arrive in time for our wedding, - our wedding, - how sweetly the words sound to me, how I look forward to the day when it will be the greatest happiness of my life to take my own Eugénie’s hand and call Heaven to witness that she has, and shall have all through life, my heart’s best and deepest love.
I have a fondness for thinking on the future sometimes, and when I do I always feel a quiet sort of confidence, which has the true ring about it, that our marriage will be a happy one; we will not start with the idea that life is for the future to be all sunshine, but we will always try to find the silver lining to the cloud, should such arise, and then our cares will sit lightly upon us, I know I feel what a help you will be to me as a dear sympathising wife, and I hope and believe that my Eugénie feels that she will have someone always ready and anxious to share alike her joys and her sorrows.
But enough of moralising or you will vote me prosy, and so perhaps I am for I am getting sleepy, so I will defer finishing my letter till to-morrow morning. Good night my dearest girl, may sweet sleep attend you and the bright beams of morning light bring happy morrow.
God bless you.
June 13th. Glancing over the foregoing part of my letter this morning I come to the conclusion that you will smile and think perhaps I was in rather a sentimental mood when I wrote it, well, darling, whenever I think about you, and more when I write to you, my thoughts seem almost carried away as it were with all the love I bear you, and it is a feeling which makes me very happy when I think how that love finds a response in my Eugenie’s breast.
Will you ask Papa or Joe where I shall find a comfortable hotel, the nearer you the better, I should prefer one frequented by English people as with my ignorance of the French language it is awkward not to have English speaking waiters.
Sometime next week, if you have an opportunity, perhaps you will make an appointment at some photographers, the best you know, either for the Saturday or Monday, and we will go and be taken if it pleases you.
The weather here is cooler again but I do not mind the heat, I know you feel the excessively warm weather, but I fancy you will not find the air of Chipping Norton often oppressive.
Your rose tree is growing nicely but will not be in bloom yet for a month I should say.
And now good-bye, only think, in ten days from this very time we may hope to be together, and won’t it be sweet for me to kiss a score of times those dear lips, and look into that loving trustful face whose bright image has never faded from my memory since I caught the last lingering glimpse as I drove away in April from the Avenue Wagram.
With all best love
Believe me ever
Yours most affectionately
Julius Sladden
