“You ought to be a happy woman, mother, for you have gotten the desire of your heart. Do you not mind once saying to me, that you desired for me nothing better in this life, than that I should do as my father had done, and make my own way in the world? Well, that is just what I am doing. There is this difference between us—that I have got ‘a measure of success’ on easier terms than my father did. I am not a rich man, and I have no desire to be one—though even that may come in time. But I stand clear of debt, and I see a fair way to success before me. I have ‘got on’ well even for this country, where all things move more rapidly than with us at home.
“I have had two friends who have stood by me all these years. They have helped me with their money, with their names, and with their influence. I might, in the course of time, have gotten on without their help, but they have taken pleasure in standing by me, like true friends.
“Yes, I have liked my work, and my way of life, though to you I will own that I have sometimes wearied of them—and of everything else. But one’s life must go on till God’s will brings it to an end, and I know of no other way that would suit me better now. And between whiles, as I have told you before, I find higher work which I am able to help along.
“And now, dear mother—when are you coming home?—For this is to be your home, is it not? You say you are able to come alone. But if you can wait a few months longer I will go for you. I have building going on in different parts of the city, and the foundation of your own house is laid, on the knowe (knoll), which I have told you of, beneath the maple-trees, and full in sight, the great lake into which the sun sinks every night of the year. In six months it will be ready for you, and I shall be ready to cross the sea to bring you home.
“I long with all my heart to have my mother here. I think I shall be quite content when that time comes.
“William Bain had told me about his sister before your letter came. He was wild with anger, and said, some things which he has taken back since then. I heard from Mr Hume and from Mrs Hume, as well. I cannot blame them for their advice—or rather, for their silence. And I cannot blame Allison Bain for what she has seen right to do. God bless her—Amen.”
And so the letter ends, without even his name.