The monotonous regular ticking of the clock in the adjoining public room reminded him forcibly that time was passing and that the train would not wait. Dipping the pen into the bottle, he began and wrote rapidly:
Brindisi, October ——, 189—.
My Dearest Mother:
Since leaving Port Said I have had time to reflect on my lengthened stay here, of which I advised you by cable from Suez.
In Port Said I received your reply saying that father’s illness was not serious and my further stay in Europe permissible. Also that you and Sis were well. Here in Brindisi I received further confirmation by cable from you and father.
Of course I am very happy that dear father’s ailment (I can’t imagine what it can be) is not serious and fervently hope that you will be getting him into fine shape soon. I hope by the time I get home, he will be his old self again. I am equally glad that you and Ruth are well and happy.
As to myself—physically I am disgracefully fine, mentally I have nothing to worry me. I am more than anxious to get home, to embrace you and kiss you, and tell you of my work, my adventures, and what I have learned and done. I want to settle down, do anything you want me to do, mater dear, either in business, in society or even as a husband! Yes, dear mother, I am willing to do what you always hinted I should do—take unto myself a wife, emulate father’s example and be a good American business man and—a “paterfamilias.”
I didn’t intend to write all this, but since the cat is out o’ the bag, I may as well confess it. I can imagine you now going over the list of eligible girls; for of course there isn’t a girl living who would not jump at the chance of marrying your boy, your handsome John—all we have to do is to pick the best!
Seriously, mother, I feel it is time for me to cease wandering and to look for happiness and satisfaction in a home. It is time for me to be a true Morton (tempered, of course, with the blue blood of the Randolphs) and try my best to carry out father’s wishes and work with him.
I have seen and learned a great deal, but all that I have learned only confirms me in my conviction that all work is ennobling, that all true labor is equally honorable to a man. And I will do all I can to make you proud of me. I am going to show you a trick or two! So you’d better sit up and take notice!
To come back to the subject of girls—don’t smile, mater—I have gotten a glimpse of a girl I want to know better. If she is what I believe her to be, I shall try to win her. If all goes well, and my ideal is realized—I am sure, dearest mother, you will love her. I do not think I can lose my heart to one not worthy of your regard, and I am too much your son not to have my judgment swayed by feelings and sentiments like yours.
My taste has never been impugned—I must take after father, who certainly had an eye for beauty if his choice of a wife is to be anything to go by. This, between you and me, dearest mother, is a confession.
Just think of it, in a few hours I shall have shaken the dust of Italy (and with it the nasty little fleas that accompany it); in two weeks both Africa and Europe will have become a memory, and I shall be on the water sailing for my beloved home, eager to breathe the free air of America, greet the star spangled glory of our own land and be with you my dears—for better and for worse—for worse for you, eh?
Tell Ruth to be good, not to eat too much turkey or pudding on Thanksgiving and keep up her French. I shall bring her some new books and, perhaps, a poodle to talk to. And give her my love—and for goodness sake don’t tell her about the nonsense I have written on the previous page.
To father give my dearest love and best wishes. If his work and health permit we might, after New Year, run down to the Everglades while you and Sis stay in St. Augustine, and get some sport.
You, dearest mother, I embrace many, many times.
I kiss and greet you all, my dears,
Your loving son,
John.
The letter sealed and addressed, John gathered up his belongings, paid his modest reckoning to the buxom lady of the osteria and walked briskly to the station, whence now shone the first lights of the evening against the yellowish sky.
Dr. Brown and Mr. Kelly were both there to see him off. Soon the song of the wheels kept time to his thoughts as the train sped on its way to the North—to the new land of his adventure.
It was a relief to be once again entirely alone, alone with his thoughts and his romance. His hand stole to the inner pocket of his coat. From among the papers he carefully selected the photograph and held it at arm’s length, contemplating it with happy anticipation.
“It seems like a fool’s errand, but, by Jove, you are a beautiful girl! May success attend me—and may I bring you back with me, to my people—my sweetheart—my wife!”