P.S.—I need not tell you this is a secret.
Goodnight again. L.
Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet
letter. It was so nice to be able to tell you
and to have your sympathy.
My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true
the old proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be
twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal
till today, not a real proposal, and today I had three.
Just fancy! Three proposals in one day!
Isn’t it awful! I feel sorry, really
and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows.
Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don’t know what
to do with myself. And three proposals!
But, for goodness’ sake, don’t tell any
of the girls, or they would be getting all sorts of
extravagant ideas, and imagining themselves injured
and slighted if in their very first day at home they
did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain!
You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going
to settle down soon soberly into old married women,
can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about
the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from
every one except, of course, Jonathan. You will
tell him, because I would, if I were in your place,
certainly tell Arthur. A woman ought to tell
her husband everything. Don’t you think
so, dear? And I must be fair. Men like
women, certainly their wives, to be quite as fair
as they are. And women, I am afraid, are not
always quite as fair as they should be.
Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch.
I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum
man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead.
He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the
same. He had evidently been schooling himself
as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them,
but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat,
which men don’t generally do when they are cool,
and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing
with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream.
He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly.
He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known
me so little, and what his life would be with me to
help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how
unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but
when he saw me cry he said he was a brute and would
not add to my present trouble. Then he broke
off and asked if I could love him in time, and when
I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with
some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for
any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that
he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but
only to know, because if a woman’s heart was
free a man might have hope. And then, Mina,
I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some
one. I only told him that much, and then he
stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave
as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I
would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend
I must count him one of my best.
