Garth thoroughly enjoyed our trip to America. You know why we went? Since he lost his sight, all sounds mean so much to him. He is so boyishly eager to hear all there is to be heard in the world. Any possibility of a new sound-experience fills him with enthusiastic expectation, and away we go! He set his heart upon hearing the thunderous roar of Niagara, so off we went, by the White Star Line. His enjoyment was complete, when at last he stood close to the Horseshoe Fall, on the Canadian side, with his hand on the rail at the place where the spray showers over you, and the great rushing boom seems all around. And as we stood there together, a little bird on a twig beside us, began to sing!—Garth is putting it all into a symphony.
How true is what you say of the genial friendliness of Americans! I was thinking it over, on our homeward voyage. It seems to me, that, as a rule, they are so far less self-conscious than we. Their minds are fully at liberty to go out at once, in keenest appreciation and interest, to meet a new acquaintance. Our senseless British greeting: “How do you do?”—that everlasting question, which neither expects nor awaits an answer, can only lead to trite remarks about the weather; whereas America’s “I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Dalmain,” or “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Ingleby,” is an open door, through which we pass at once to fuller friendliness. Too often, in the moment of introduction, the reserved British nature turns in upon itself, sensitively debating what impression it is making; nervously afraid of being too expansive; fearful of giving itself away. But, as I said, the American mind comes forth to meet us with prompt interest and appreciative expectation; and we make more friends, in that land of ready sympathies, in half an hour, than we do in half a year of our own stiff social functions. Perhaps you will put me down as biassed in my opinion. Well, they were wondrous good to Garth and me; and we depend so greatly upon people saying exactly the right thing at the right moment. When friendly looks cannot be seen, tactful words become more than ever a necessity.
Yes, little Geoff’s eyes are bright and shining, and the true golden brown. In many other ways he is very like his father.
Garth sends his love, and promises you a special accompaniment to the “Blackbird’s Song,” such as can easily be played with one finger!
It seems so strange to address this envelope to Mrs. O’Mara. It reminds me of a time when I dropped my own identity and used another woman’s name. I only wish your experiment might end as happily as mine.
Ah, Myra dearest, there is a Best for every life! Sometimes we can only reach it by a rocky path or along a thorny way; and those who fear the pain, come to it not at all. But such of us as have attained, can testify that it is worth while. From all you have told me lately, I gather the Best has not yet come your way. Keep on expecting. Do not be content with less.
We certainly must not let Deryck know that Jim Airth—what a nice name—was at Targai. He would move you on, promptly.
Report again next week; and do abide, if necessary, beneath the safe chaperonage of the cameo brooch.
Yours, in all fidelity,
Jane Dalmain.