Before I begin--here's a cheque for one thousand dollars. It seems
funny, doesn't it, for me to be sending a cheque to you? Where do you
think I got it?
I've sold my story, Daddy. It's going to be published serially in
seven parts, and then in a book! You might think I'd be wild with joy,
but I'm not. I'm entirely apathetic. Of course I'm glad to begin
paying you--I owe you over two thousand more. It's coming in
instalments. Now don't be horrid, please, about taking it, because it
makes me happy to return it. I owe you a great deal more than the mere
money, and the rest I will continue to pay all my life in gratitude and
affection.
And now, Daddy, about the other thing; please give me your most worldly
advice, whether you think I'll like it or not.
You know that I've always had a very special feeling towards you; you
sort of represented my whole family; but you won't mind, will you, if I
tell you that I have a very much more special feeling for another man?
You can probably guess without much trouble who he is. I suspect that
my letters have been very full of Master Jervie for a very long time.
I wish I could make you understand what he is like and how entirely
companionable we are. We think the same about everything--I am afraid
I have a tendency to make over my ideas to match his! But he is almost
always right; he ought to be, you know, for he has fourteen years'
start of me. In other ways, though, he's just an overgrown boy, and he
does need looking after--he hasn't any sense about wearing rubbers when
it rains. He and I always think the same things are funny, and that is
such a lot; it's dreadful when two people's senses of humour are
antagonistic. I don't believe there's any bridging that gulf!
And he is--Oh, well! He is just himself, and I miss him, and miss him,
and miss him. The whole world seems empty and aching. I hate the
moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me.
But maybe you've loved somebody, too, and you know? If you have, I
don't need to explain; if you haven't, I can't explain.
Anyway, that's the way I feel--and I've refused to marry him.
I didn't tell him why; I was just dumb and miserable. I couldn't think
of anything to say. And now he has gone away imagining that I want to
marry Jimmie McBride--I don't in the least, I wouldn't think of
marrying Jimmie; he isn't grown up enough. But Master Jervie and I got
into a dreadful muddle of misunderstanding and we both hurt each
other's feelings. The reason I sent him away was not because I didn't
care for him, but because I cared for him so much. I was afraid he
would regret it in the future--and I couldn't stand that! It didn't
seem right for a person of my lack of antecedents to marry into any
such family as his. I never told him about the orphan asylum, and I
hated to explain that I didn't know who I was. I may be DREADFUL, you
know. And his family are proud--and I'm proud, too!