My Dearest Eugénie,
I was very glad to receive your letter yesterday afternoon. I generally get them about half past two, towards which time I usually get a little fidgety when I am expecting one, but you are a dear good girl to write as you do so that I am seldom disappointed.
George said he should like to write you a few lines so I shall enclose his letter with mine.
On looking back to my accounts (you see what a methodical man I am) I find that the photographs by Mayall were taken Octbr 17th 1874, those by Elliott & Fry, March 25th 1875, since which time I have not had any done, I had no idea the one you sent me the other day had been taken so long as three years, I like it more and more as I look at it, which is very often, my darling Eugénie; that likeness and the little lock of hair, always next my heart, are both great treasures being, as they are, tokens of your love.
I thought of you last evening about ten o’clock and wondered whether you were then playing your overture, perhaps I wished I were there to listen, I do hope the whole opera went off to your satisfaction and shall look forward with pleasure to hear it was a success, I hope you feel, my darling, that I take an interest in everything you have to do with.
It was nice to know that you thought about me the other day when looking at the pansies, I know you are fond of flowers and I shall like so much to teach you a little about them in that happy future when I can whisper in your ear the dear name of “wife”, “my own own darling wife”!
I have written home to say that I think of coming for a day or two at Whitsuntide, but my visit will be a very short one as I think of going out again in June, I do not know whether I shall persuade George to stay and go with me as there is not much to amuse him here, he will probably be on shore until August unless he should get the command of a ship before.
It keeps very cold still and the flowers do not get on much.
Yes, I remember the organ in Notre Dame, we shall never forget that day, dear girl, as you say those few happy days passed quickly – too quickly – away, but the memory of them is very sweet to me, and then you know there is the looking forward to a similar time when I can once more tell my Eugénie how much I love her and, sweeter still, hear from her own dear lips that she too gives me back her love.
Good-bye, I have remembered five weeks ago this Sunday.
Ever your own true loving