“Hurry then and let me read it.”
“Excuse me, it is purely confidential, every vestige to be consigned to the flames. You are to have a letter in a day or two.”
Mr. Hammerton gave her a quick glance and moved his queen into check. She took the letter into the parlor for a second perusal.
“Oh, Tessa, my dear, big, wise sister, I’ve got something to tell you. What should I do if I hadn’t somebody to tell? At first I thought I wouldn’t tell you or any body, and then I knew I must. Norah knows, but she will never tell. She does not know about Gus. I have never told that, but she knows about my wonderful John! I don’t know how to begin either; I guess I will begin in the middle; all the blanks your own imagination must fill. You know all about John; I’ve told you enough if your head isn’t too full of literary stuff to hold common affairs; I’m in love and he is, too, of course. I should not be if he were not. I mean I should not tell of it if he were not. I’m glad that you are not the kind of elder sister that can’t be told such things, for I could not tell mother, and I would not dare tell dear, old father. Not that it is so dreadful to be in love, even if I have known him but seven weeks to-night; I fell in love with him the instant he raised his eyes and took hold of my hand. Living under the same roof and eating together three times a day (he eats so nicely), and ciphering and studying and reading together, and going to church and prayer-meeting and singing-school together, make the time seem ten times as long and give twenty times as many opportunities of falling in love decorously as I could have found in Dunellen in a year! But I am not apologizing for that. It’s too delightfully delicious to have a real lover! Not that he has asked me yet! I wouldn’t have him do it for any thing; it would spoil it all. But we both knew it as Adam and Eve knew it! Now the dreadfulness of it is that I have no right to do such a thing. I came here believing that I was lawfully and forever engaged to dear old Gus, spectacles, chess-board, dictionary and all. Not that he ever said a word to me! Don’t you know one night I told you that I had a secret? How glad I was of it then! I couldn’t sleep that night and for days I felt dizzy; for Gus had been my hero ever since he told me stories when I was a wee child. And so of course I thought I loved him. What is love, anyway? Who knows? That secret was this: I heard dear, old, wise Gus tell father that he loved me (just think, me!) and that he was waiting for me to love him, dear, old boy! He would not try to make me love him, he wanted it to come naturally; he would not speak to me or urge me, he wanted to find me loving him and then he would ask me to give him what belonged to him. Wasn’t it touching? I didn’t know that he could be so lover-like. I didn’t know that he ever would love anybody because he always talks books and politics and only made fun when I told him news about the girls. How could I help loving him when I knew that he loved me. Isn’t that enough to make anybody love anybody?
“Just as soon as I saw my wonderful John, then I knew that I did not love Gus, that I never had loved him, that I never could love him. No, not to the end of time. If I had married him, I suppose that I should have been satisfied and thought I was as happy as I could be—I don’t know, though. He was wise to let me wait and have a choice: it is cruel to ask girls before they have seen some one else; we do not know what we do want until we see it—or him. I am writing at the sitting-room table; John has not come home from the mail; Aunt Tessa knits a long, blue stocking and Uncle Knox is asleep with the big white and black cat on his knees.
“I never could stay here but for John and Miss Towne. I have told her about John; she likes John. Every one does.
“I want you to see my knight; he is not tall, he is broad-shouldered, with the loveliest complexion and blonde mustache, blue eyes, shining blue eyes, and auburn curly hair! that is, rather auburn; I think it is more like reddish gold. I wish that you could hear him talk about making life a glorious success. He makes me feel brave and strong. Oh, isn’t it a beautiful thing to live and have some one love you! I wish that you loved somebody; I do not like to be so happy and have you standing out in the cold. John thinks that you are wonderful; I tell him that he will forget me when he has heard you talk.
“Wise old Gus is a thousand miles over my head when he talks to me, but John walks by my side and speaks the thoughts that I have been thinking, only in so much more beautiful language; and he likes all the books I like, and my favorite poems and hymns. How will you break it to Gus? He must be told. He wrote to me two weeks ago, a long, interesting letter all about Dunellen news, which I haven’t dared answer yet. I suppose I must. I showed it to John; he asked how old he was, and now he calls him ‘The Venerable.’ He must not keep on thinking about me, for I never, never can like him, even if I never marry John. Do break it to him in some easy, pleasant way; he will never imagine that you know that he likes me. He never showed it any, I am sure. I always thought that it was you, and mother thinks so; I heard her telling father.
“Be sure to write immediately, for I am as unhappy as I can be. And be sure to tell me what he says and how he takes it. Mary Sherwood wrote me that Sue told her that she and Dr. Lake had awful quarrels, and that once they didn’t speak to each other for three days only in her father’s presence. I never could quarrel with John. There he comes. I’ll be writing when he comes in and not look up, and then he will come behind my chair and touch my curls when auntie isn’t looking.
“Write soon. Your ever loving Dine.