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the little beauty face to face。 I have a presentiment； Jack； that
this Daw is a rara avis！ Keep up your spirits； my boy； until I
write you another letterand send me along word how's your leg。
V。
EDWARD DELANEY TO JOHN FLEMMING。
August 13； 1872。
The party； my dear Jack； was as dreary as possible。 A lieutenant of
the navy； the rector of the Episcopal Church at Stillwater； and a
society swell from Nahant。 The lieutenant looked as if he had
swallowed a couple of his buttons； and found the bullion rather
indigestible； the rector was a pensive youth； of the daffydowndilly
sort； and the swell from Nahant was a very weak tidal wave indeed。
The women were much better； as they always are； the two Miss
Kingsburys of Philadelphia； staying at the Seashell House； two
bright and engaging girls。 But Marjorie Daw！
The company broke up soon after tea； and I remained to smoke a
cigar with the colonel on the piazza。 It was like seeing a picture；
to see Miss Marjorie hovering around the old soldier； and doing a
hundred gracious little things for him。 She brought the cigars and
lighted the tapers with her own delicate fingers； in the most
enchanting fashion。 As we sat there； she came and went in the
summer twilight； and seemed； with her white dress and pale gold
hair； like some lovely phantom that had sprung into existence
out of the smokewreaths。 If she had melted into air； like the
statue of Galatea in the play； I should have been more sorry than
surprised。
It was easy to perceive that the old colonel worshipped her and she
him。 I think the relation between an elderly father and a daughter
just blooming into womanhood the most beautiful possible。 There is
in it a subtile sentiment that cannot exist in the case of mother
and daughter； or that of son and mother。 But this is getting into
deep water。
I sat with the Daws until half past ten； and saw the moon rise on
the sea。 The ocean； that had stretched motionless and black against
the horizon； was changed by magic into a broken field of glittering
ice； interspersed with marvellous silvery fjords。 In the far
distance the Isle of Shoals loomed up like a group of huge bergs
drifting down on us。 The Polar Regions in a June thaw！ It was
exceedingly fine。 What did we talk about？ We talked about the
weatherand you！ The weather has been disagreeable for several
days pastand so have you。 I glided from one topic to the other
very naturally。 I told my friends of your accident； how it had
frustrated all our summer plans； and what our plans were。 I played
quite a spirited solo on the fibula。 Then I described you； or；
rather； I didn't。 I spoke of your amiability； of your patience
under this severe affliction； of your touching gratitude when
Dillon brings you little presents of fruit； of your tenderness to
your sister Fanny； whom you would not allow to stay in town to
nurse you； and how you heroically sent her back to Newport；
preferring to remain alone with Mary； the cook； and your man
Watkins； to whom； by the way； you were devotedly attached。 If you
had been there； Jack； you wouldn't have known yourself。 I should
have excelled as a criminal lawyer； if I had not turned my
attention to a different branch of jurisprudence。
Miss Marjorie asked all manner of leading questions concerning you。
It did not occur to me then； but it struck me forcibly afterwards；
that she evinced a singular interest in the conversation。 When I
got back to my room； I recalled how eagerly she leaned forward；
with her full； snowy throat in strong moonlight； listening to what
I said。 Positively； I think I made her like you！
Miss Daw is a girl whom you would like immensely； I can tell you
that。 A beauty without affectation； a high and tender natureif
one can read the soul in the face。 And the old colonel is a noble
character； too。
I am glad that the Daws are such pleasant people。 The Pines is an
isolated spot； and my resources are few。 I fear I should have found
life here somewhat monotonous before long； with no other society
than that of my excellent sire。 It is true； I might have made a
target of the defenceless invalid； but I haven't a taste for
artillery； moi。
VI。
JOHN FLEMMING TO EDWARD DELANEY。
August 17； 1872。
For a man who hasn't a taste for artillery； it occurs to me； my
friend； you are keeping up a pretty lively fire on my inner works。
But go on。 Cynicism is a small brass field…piece that eventually
bursts and kills the artilleryman。
You may abuse me as much as you like； and I'll not complain； for I
don't know what I should do without your letters。 They are curing
me。 I haven't hurled anything at Watkins since last Sunday； partly
because I have grown more amiable under your teaching； and partly
because Watkins captured my ammunition one night； and carried it
off to the library。 He is rapidly losing the habit he had acquired
of dodging whenever I rub my ear； or make any slight motion with my
right arm。 He is still suggestive of the wine…cellar； however。 You
may break； you may shatter Watkins； if you will； but the scent of
the Roederer will hang round him still。
Ned； that Miss Daw must be a charming person。 I should certainly
like her。 I like her already。 When you spoke in your first letter
of seeing a young girl swinging in a hammock under your chamber
window； I was somehow strangely drawn to her。 I cannot account for
it in the least。 What you have subsequently written of Miss Daw has
strengthened the impression。 You seem to be describing a woman I
have known in some previous state of existence； or dreamed of in
this。 Upon my word； if you were to send me her photograph； I
believe I should recognize her at a glance。 Her manner； that
listening attitude； her traits of character； as you indicate them；
the light hair and the dark eyesthey are all familiar things to
me。 Asked a lot of questions； did she？ Curious about me？ That is
strange。
You would laugh in your sleeve； you wretched old cynic； if you knew
how I lie awake nights； with my gas turned down to a star； thinking
of The Pines and the house across the road。 How cool it must be
down there！ I long for the salt smell in the air。 I picture the
colonel smoking his cheroot on the piazza。 I send you and Miss Daw
off on afternoon rambles along the beach。 Sometimes I let you
stroll with her under the elms in the moonlight； for you are great
friends by this time； I take it； and see each other every day。 I
know your ways and your manners！ Then I fall into a truculent
mood； and would like to destroy somebody。 Have you noticed anything
in the shape of a lover hanging around the colonel Lares and
Penates？ Does that lieutenant of the horse…marines or that young
Stillwater parson visit the house much？ Not that I am pining for
news of them； but any gossip of the kind would be in order。 I
wonder； Ned； you don't fall in love with Miss Daw。 I am ripe to do
it myself。 Speaking of photographs； couldn't you manage to slip
one of her cartes…de…visite from her albumshe must have an album；
you knowand send it to me？ I will return it before it could be
missed。 That's a good fellow！ Did the mare arrive safe and sound？
It will be a capital animal this autumn fo