"You cannot come out," said
Julian, "until you have promised to be a good boy." Through the
persistent dignity with which Hawthorne behaved, and with which he was
always treated by the household, Julian had felt the down of playful
love.
Here are letters written to me while I was in Portugal with my mother,
in 1856:--
MY DEAR LITTLE ROSEBUD,--I have put a kiss for you in this nice, clean
piece of paper. I shall fold it up carefully, and I hope it will not
drop out before it gets to Lisbon. If you cannot find it, you must ask
Mamma to look for it. Perhaps you will find it on her lips. Give my
best regards to your Uncle John and Aunt Sue, and to all your kind
friends, not forgetting your Nurse. Your affectionate father,
N. H.
MY DEAR LITTLE ROSEBUD,--It is a great while since I wrote to you; and
I am afraid this letter will be a great while in reaching you. I hope
you are a very good little girl; and I am sure you never get into a
passion, and never scream, and never scratch and strike your dear
Nurse or your dear sister Una. Oh no! my little Rosebud would never do
such naughty things as those. It would grieve me very much if I were
to hear of her doing such things. When you come back to England, I
shall ask Mamma whether you have been a good little girl; and Mamma (I
hope) will say: "Yes; our little Rosebud has been the best and
sweetest little girl I ever knew in my life. She has never screamed
nor uttered any but the softest and sweetest sounds.
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