First I must apologize for my shameful neglect of this hopeful little community. I started it when I had more time...then something happened! A whole lot of somethings, actually. But I won't get stressed over it. I'm sure that all of you know exactly how that happens...especially if you are all women. :)
But I find myself compelled to post today because Frederick Wentworth's beautiful words have been swirling in my head for days. I don't know exactly why, but circumstances keep reminding me of quotes in his letter, and I want to ask you all: Have you ever read a more perfect love letter than this one? I am open to that possibility, so do quote others if you feel this has an equal anywhere!
I love the whole letter, but I have highlighted the sentences that pierce my soul. These words come to me again and again. And I always wonder...how much of Jane's soul is in this letter? I can never forget that all the words she puts into the mouths of her characters are her own.
Now, for your delight...intense love and longing scribbled on a scrap of paper...
I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.
I also find it striking that men and women in every age have found it hard to read each other at a certain stage in a relationship: I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. But Anne hadn't! She was just as perplexed about Wentworth as he was about her. But then, that's what makes love so interesting and exciting...mystery and uncertainty for a period of time, until the final moment of revelation...as in this letter.