University of Virginia Library

10. X.

You were passing into your second childhood,
were you? Your intellect was so reduced that
my epistolary gifts seemed quite considerable to
you, did they? I rise superior to the sarcasm
in your favor of the 11th instant, when I notice
that five days' silence on my part is sufficient to
throw you into the depths of despondency.

We returned only this morning from Appledore,
that enchanted island, — at four dollars
per day. I find on my desk three letters from
you! Evidently there is no lingering doubt in
your mind as to the pleasure I derive from your
correspondence. These letters are undated, but
in what I take to be the latest are two passages
that require my consideration. You will pardon
my candor, dear Flemming, but the conviction
forces itself upon me that as your leg grows
stronger your head becomes weaker. You ask

my advice on a certain point. I will give it. In
my opinion you could do nothing more unwise
than to address a note to Miss Daw, thanking
her for the flower. It would, I am sure, offend
her delicacy beyond pardon. She knows you only
through me; you are to her an abstraction, a
figure in a dream, — a dream from which the
faintest shock would awaken her. Of course, if
you enclose a note to me and insist on its delivery,
I shall deliver it; but I advise you not to
do so.

You say you are able, with the aid of a cane, to walk about your chamber, and that you purpose
to come to The Pines the instant Dillon
thinks you strong enough to stand the journey.
Again I advise you not to. Do you not see that,
every hour you remain away, Marjorie's glamour
deepens, and your influence over her increases?
You will ruin everything by precipitancy. Wait
until you are entirely recovered; in any case, do
not come without giving me warning. I fear the
effect of your abrupt advent here — under the
circumstances.

Miss Daw was evidently glad to see us back
again, and gave me both hands in the frankest

way. She stopped at the door a moment, this
afternoon, in the carriage; she had been over
to Rivermouth for her pictures. Unluckily the
photographer had spilt some acid on the plate,
and she was obliged to give him another sitting.
I have an intuition that something is troubling
Marjorie. She had an abstracted air not usual
with her. However, it may be only my fancy.
.... I end this, leaving several things unsaid,
to accompany my father on one of those long
walks which are now his chief medicine, — and
mine!