A written letter remains, and may be
taken as evidence of so much more than it means. But a word
sometimes may be spoken which, if it be well spoken,--if assurance
of its truth be given by the tone and by the eye of the speaker,--
shall do so much more than any letter, and shall yet only remain
with the hearer as the remembrance of the scent of a flower
remains! Nevertheless she did at last write the letter, and brought
it to her husband. "Is it necessary that I should see it?" he
asked.
"Not absolutely necessary."
"Then send it without"
"But I should like you to see what I have said. You know about
things, and if it is too much or too little, you can tell me." Then
he read her letter, which ran as follows:
Dear Mr. Twentyman,
Perhaps you have heard that we are to be married on Thursday, May
6th. I do so wish that you would come. It would make me so much
happier on that day. We shall be very quiet; and if you would come
to the house at eleven you could go across the park with them all
to the church. I am to be taken in a carriage because of my finery.
Then there will be a little breakfast. Papa and mamma and Dolly and
Kate would be so glad;--and so would Mr. Morton. But none of them
will be half so glad as your old, old, affectionate friend
Mary Masters.
"If that don't fetch him," said Reginald, "he is a poorer creature
than I take him to be.
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