letters from dickinson to abiah root

29 October 1848

My own dear Abiah,

For so I will still call you, though while I do it, even now I tremble at my strange audacity, and almost wish I had been a little more humble not quite so presuming.

Six long months have tried hard to make us strangers, but I love you better than ever notwithstanding the link which bound us in that golden chain is sadly dimmed, I feel more reluctant to lose you from that bright circle, whom I've called my friends I mailed a long letter to you the 1st of March, & patiently have I waited a reply, but none has yet cheered me.

Slowly, very slowly, I came to the conclusion that you had forgotten me, & I tried hard to forget you, but your image still haunts me, and tantalizes me with fond recollections. At our Holyoke Anniverary, I caught one glimpse of your face, & fondly anticipated an interview with you, & a reason for your silence, but when I thought to find you search was vain, for "the bird had flown." Sometimes, I think it was a fancy, think I did not really see my old friend, but her spirit, then your well known voice tells me it was not spirit, but yourself, living, that stood within that crowded hall & spoke to me - Why did ou not come back that day, and tell me what had sealed your lips toward me? Did my letter never reach you, or did you coolly decide to love me, & write to me no more? If you love me, & never received my letter - then may you think yourself wronged, and that rightly, but if you dont want to be my friend any longer, say so, & I'll try once more to blot you from my memory. Tell me very soon, for suspense is intolerable. I need not tell you, this is from,


thomas johnson's note on letter 26 | index to dickinson/root letters

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