27 May

But thou wilt make me better and better, till I am even worthy to be thy husband.

54 Pinckney St., May 27th, 1842

Dearest Heart,

Thy letter to my sisters was most beautiful sweet, gentle, and magnanimous; such as no angel save my Dove, could have written. If they do not love thee, it will be because they have no hearts to love with; and even if this were the case, I should not despair of thy planting the seeds of hearts in their bosoms. They will love thee, all in good time, dearest; and we will be very happy. I am so at this moment, while my breast heaves with the consciousness of what a treasure God has given me in whom I see more to worship, and admire, and love, every day of my life; and shall see more and more as long as I live; else, it will be because my own nature retrogrades, instead of advancing. But thou wilt make me better and better, till I am even worthy to be thy husband.

Oh, truest wife, what a long widowhood is this! Three evenings without a glimpse of thee! And I know not whether I am to come at six or seven o'clock tomorrow evening or scarcely, indeed, whether I am to come at all. But, unless thou orderest me to the contrary, I shall come at seven o'clock.

I met Mr. Emerson at the Athenaeum yesterday. He tells me that our garden, &c. makes fine progress. Would that we were there. God bless us.

THINE OWNEST.
Miss Sophia A. Peabody,
No. 13 West-street,
Boston.

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