University of Virginia Library

11. XI.

I write in great haste to tell you what has
taken place here since my letter of last night.
I am in the utmost perplexity. Only one thing
is plain, — you must not dream of coming to
The Pines. Marjorie has told her father everything!
I saw her for a few minutes, an hour
ago, in the garden; and, as near as I could
gather from her confused statement, the facts
are these: Lieutenant Bradly — that's the naval
officer stationed at Rivermouth — has been paying
court to Miss Daw for some time past, but
not so much to her liking as to that of the colonel,
who it seems is an old friend of the young
gentleman's father. Yesterday (I knew she was
in some trouble when she drove up to our gate)
the colonel spoke to Marjorie of Bradly, — urged
his suit, I infer. Marjorie expressed her dislike
for the lieutenant with characteristic frankness,

and finally confessed to her father — well, I
really do not know what she confessed. It must
have been the vaguest of confessions, and must
have sufficiently puzzled the colonel. At any
rate, it exasperated him. I suppose I am implicated
in the matter, and that the colonel feels
bitterly towards me. I do not see why: I have
carried no messages between you and Miss Daw;
I have behaved with the greatest discretion. I
can find no flaw anywhere in my procceding. I
do not see that anybody has done anything, —
except the colonel himself.

It is probable, nevertheless, that the friendly
relations between the two houses will be broken
off. “A plague o' both your houses,” say you.
I will keep you informed, as well as I can, of
what occurs over the way. We shall remain
here until the second week in September. Stay
where you are, or, at all events, do not dream of
joining me..... Colonel Daw is sitting on
the piazza looking rather wicked. I have not
seen Marjorie since I parted with her in the
garden.