A man has to fend and fettle for the best,and then trust in something beyond himself.You can't insure against the future,except by really believing in the best bit of you,and in the power beyond it.So I believe in the little flame between us.For me now,it's the only thing in the world.
I've got no friends,not inward friends.Only you.And now the little flame is all I care about in my life.There's the baby,but that is a side issue.
It's my Pentecost,the forked flame between me and you.The old Pentecost isn't quite right.Me and God is a bit uppish,somehow.But the little forked flame between me and you:there you are!That's what I abide by,and will abide by,Cliffords and Berthas,colliery companies and governments and the money-mass of people all notwithstanding.
That's why I don't like to start thinking about you actually.It only tortures me,and does you no good.I don't want you to be away from me.
But if I start fretting it wastes something.Patience,always patience.
This is my fortieth winter.And I can't help all the winters that have been.But this winter I'll stick to my little Pentecost flame,and have some peace.And I won't let the breath of people blow it out.I believe in a higher mystery,that doesn't let even the crocus be blown out.And if you're in Scotland and I'm in the Midlands,and I can't put my arms round you,and wrap my legs round you,yet I've got something of you.My soul softly Naps in the little Pentecost flame with you,like the peace of fucking.We fucked a flame into being.Even the flowers are fucked into being between the sun and the earth.But it's a delicate thing,and takes patience and the long pause.
So I love chastity now,because it is the peace that comes of fucking.
I love being chaste now.I love it as snowdrops love the snow.I love this chastity,which is the pause of peace of our fucking,between us now like a snowdrop of forked white fire.And when the real spring comes,when the drawing together comes,then we can fuck the little flame brilliant and yellow,brilliant.But not now,not yet!Now is the time to be chaste,it is so good to be chaste,like a river of cool water in my soul.I love the chastity now that it flows between us.It is like fresh water and rain.
How can men want wearisomely to philander.What a misery to be like Don Juan,and impotent ever to fuck oneself into peace,and the little flame alight,impotent and unable to be chaste in the cool between-whiles,as by a river.
Well,so many words,because I can't touch you.If I could sleep with my arms round you,the ink could stay in the bottle.We could be chaste together just as we can fuck together.But we have to be separate for a while,and I suppose it is really the wiser way.If only one were sure.
Never mind,never mind,we won't get worked up.We really trust in the little flame,and in the unnamed god that shields it from being blown out.
There's so much of you here with me,really,that it's a pity you aren't all here.
Never mind about Sir Clifford.If you don't hear anything from him,never mind.He can't really do anything to you.Wait,he will want to get rid of you at last,to cast you out.And if he doesn't,we'll manage to keep clear of him.But he will.In the end he will want to spew you out as the abominable thing.
Now I can't even leave off writing to you.
But a great deal of us is together,and we can but abide by it,and steer our courses to meet soon.John Thomas says good-night to Lady Jane,a little droopingly,but with a hopeful heart.
