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 straightfordwardly. 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.
Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying, and you must excuse this letter being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice and all that sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you have to see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and looking all broken hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may say at the moment, you are passing out of his life. My dear, I must stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy.
Evening.
Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I left off, so I can go on telling you about the day.
Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow,and American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has such adventures.
I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she had such a stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him.
I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet. . .
My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone.
No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could, I am not ashamed to say it now.
I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang, that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners, but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang,and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things.
I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this is a way slang has.
I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang.
I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet.
Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous.
He took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly. . .
"Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit.
Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?"
Well, he did look so hood humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward.
So I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet.
Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, and occasion for him, I would forgive him.
He really did look serious when he was saying it, and I couldn't help feeling a sort of exultation that he was number Two in one day.
And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-******, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times.
I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped,and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free. . .
"Lucy, you are an honest hearted girl, I know. I should not be here speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe you clean grit, right through to the very depths of your soul. Tell me, like one good fellow to another, is there any one else that you care for?
And if there is I'll never trouble you a hair's breadth again, but will be, if you will let me, a very faithful friend."
My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little worthy of them? Here was I almost ****** fun of this great hearted, true gentleman.
