Chipping Norton
May 28 1877
My dearest Eugénie,
It was very thoughtful of you to post me a letter on Friday for I should have felt it was a long time to wait over Sunday, you can hardly imagine how eagerly I look forward to the time when I expect to receive your dear letters.
As usual I thought a great deal about you yesterday (Sunday) and as I took my friend Rawlinson’s class for him at the school, in his absence, I imagined about 10 A.M. that we were similarly engaged. It, being Trinity Sunday, set me thinking of what I hope will take place before that long season of the Church comes to a close, and I pictured to myself my darling Eugénie standing by my side, bearing her new name, and beginning to realize more fully the depth of that love which my heart aches to bestow upon her!
I suppose by this time you have really said good bye to May, well, dearest, that word farewell is rather hard to say, especially to a naturally affectionate disposition like your own, and it must perforce make you a little sad, but I feel so happy to know that my love, darling, is a real solace to you, something, my own, that you can cling to, as it were, in the full conviction that nothing through this life can sever the bond of union which knits our hearts a one!
Enclosed you will find a few lines which I wrote out the other day, I am sorry they are not better for I am too well aware of their utter worthlessness in point of merit, however perhaps you will like them as a little tribute of affection and believe that it is the want of power, not of will, that prevents their being any better than they are.
When I come over I shall like you to shew me your favourite pieces in your book of lyrics, fancy, Eugénie, this day four weeks, I shall I hope be with you, at this very time, it will be my birthday and I shall have received all good earnest wishes, yes and, I trust, a kiss of fond true love from my own darling’s lips, it makes me very happy even now to think of that meeting.
And now good bye, I am afraid my letters must too often appear monotonous, but you must always believe that you have all the best affection of yours for ever
Julius Sladden
