But this I absolutely refused to do. She was putting me in a position I did not covet. I said I had some letters to write and would go to my room for awhile. Miss May did not press her point further, but said she would take the time to answer her own letters, if I did not need her.
For the next hour I pushed my pen over the stationery, replying to the missives I had received, and also sending brief notes to several of my other friends. When this was finished I went to Miss May's door to speak to her, and found her absent. Looking over the veranda railing I saw her at some distance, frolicking with Laps, the dog, apparently having recovered her spirits, which were rather low when I left her.
Glancing back into her room I noticed that a letter she had just written lay open upon the table. To save my soul I could not resist going in, taking it up and reading it. My curiosity about her was intense. There might be something in this letter, either to confirm my belief in her or to dash it to the ground. At any rate, though the act was repulsive to my nature, I could not help taking advantage of the opportunity.
Dear Helen [was the way the letter read]:—Many thanks for your sweet note. I am glad to say I can set your mind at rest at once regarding my fate. Mr. C. is one of the kindest men I ever knew. I have lost the apprehension which I had in regard to him during the first few days of our voyage and am as happy as I hoped to be when I told you of the engagement. I only wish you could have seen him before we sailed. You would not wonder I was so pleased to go, though, of course, I had to hide my feelings when talking with him about it.
I will try to describe him to you. He is rather above the medium height, four or five inches taller than I, I should think. His hair is brown. He wears a mustache, but no beard—a nearly blonde mustache that adds a charm to a sensitive and finely cut mouth. His eyes are hazel. He is slightly pale, owing to the illness of which I told you, but he has gained immensely since we started. When he smiles I never saw a more engaging countenance; when he is troubled the clouds are like those of a summer sky, and the first puff of wind blows them away.
I do not mean to tell you he is perfect in everything. He has not led the best life always, I am afraid, and with a different woman for his constant companion there might be a another story to tell. But when he shows signs of getting unruly, I never fail to quiet him with the right word. He is a gentleman, after all, and I am sure he will never be else than that to me.
Helen, dear, I must tell you a great secret. I have all I can do to prevent myself falling head over ears in love with the man. If I were an unscrupulous young woman I believe I could make him care a great deal for me. As I look at it, such a course would be wholly disreputable. He is impulsive and might say things he would regret later in his life. So I keep my heart as quiet as I can, in his presence. He will not guess what I have confided to you and what I never shall tell to another.
If I were of his social grade—if I could have retained the position in which I was born, he would be my ideal as a husband. Such thoughts, alas! are not for
Your Poor Friend,
MARJORIE.