We have constant engagements, and I feel a little worn, though otherwise quite well. Can you pardon a letter wholly devoted to myself? and in return will you not tell me all about yourself, dear papa, and everybody you know?
Always faithfully your own, Ellen.
From Mrs. Perces Thornton to the Baroness Von Eulaw.
Roxbury, Mass., April 2, 1893.
My Dear Daughter: I have your first letter written from Berlin, but how sad! That dreadful sea must have made you bilious. It has always just such an effect on your father; he sees the whole earth through smoked glasses.
But I can only imagine you as in a constant succession of raptures. Such a marriage for an American girl! A baron with such deportment, and such a delightful accent! I have no doubt, too, he is much richer than he represented. I assure you, the young ladies of Boston’s high circles have turned all hues of the rainbow with envy, and you ought to find great pleasure in that recollection alone. Besides, such opportunities as you are having to meet crowned heads, and feel yourself as one among the titled people of Europe! What elevation! What distinction! You must not forget to make the most copious notes, so that you will be able to impress your superiority upon the world of society when you return.
Really, you should be, as I know you are, very happy. Of course “scenes” are unpleasant to one like yourself, not foreign bred. But I am told that such experiences are the real thing with nobility, especially if there is an American wife. And it is reasonable to suppose that high blood should feel intolerant toward all forms of assertiveness on the part of women, especially American women.
Therefore, be a little discreet, my dear, and remember what an English woman said to you, that it is not good form to be either clever or artistic, and above all patriotic.
You speak of shadows in your life. It was only the other day I read from one of your own books on the Newtonian theory of color, that dark objects were such as absorbed the light and reflected only somber tints, and I am sure it is so with your life; it is holding the light within itself.
I will not write more to-day, for your correspondence will be large, and time precious with you. How radiant you must look with your graceful gowns and your classic face; almost equal to a born princess! Believe me, my dear child, I am very proud of your noble marriage and of your dutiful conduct in making such an one largely, let me confess, to please me. And of all things, do not trouble yourself too much about the love business—that will all come about in good time, and if it does not—well, I can only say you will have a majority with you.