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Your Radiant Transformation Scene, The Luttrell Arms, Dunster, Aug. 18th Duck of the Universe: Five days since I wrote, and it seems five minutes. But I did telegraph with my last shilling; and even that would be rightfully Ellaline's, if the labourer weren't worthy of his hire.
My Spartan Angel: Now the telegram's come, I feel as if I'd known all along what your decision would be. I'm glad you were extravagant enough to add "Writing," for to-morrow morning I shall know by exactly what mental processes you decided. I stuck the bit of blue paper under Ellaline's nose, and she almost had a fit with joy.
Women are the devil. All but this one and she isn't a woman yet. The dangerous part is that I am not as grimly unhappy as I ought to be. There are moments, hours, when I forget that there's any obstacle dividing Ellaline's future from mine. I think of her as belonging to me. I feel that she is to be a part of my life always, as she is now.
Not that it need, for Sir Lionel looks about thirty-four. Nobody would give him forty unless they saw it in books; and he is like a knight of romance. There! Now you have the opinion I have come to hold of Ellaline's dragon. For me, the Dragon has turned into a Knight. But, of course, I may be mistaken. Mrs.
One reads in novels of "the electricity in a touch," and all that; but there it generally means that you're falling in love. And I can't possibly be falling in love with Ellaline's Dragon, can I? I don't suppose that can be. It would be too stupid, and forward, and altogether unspeakable. But really, I do feel differently about him from any way I ever felt before toward anybody.
Seaward, an impressionist sketch of Whistler's: Southampton Water and historic Portsmouth Harbour; stretches of glittering sand with the sea lying in ragged patches on it here and there like great pieces of broken glass. Over all, the English sunshine pale as an alloy of gold and silver; not too dazzling, yet discreetly cheerful, like a Puritan maiden's smile; but not like Ellaline's.
He's English, and though Ellaline's mother was half French, they were cousins, and I believe her dying request was that he should take care of her daughter and her daughter's money. You would have thought that that must have softened even a hard heart, wouldn't you?
At night, in the room of Henry VIII., I dreamed I saw Anne Boleyn, with Ellaline's face, which smiled at me, the lips saying: "I'll forgive you, if you'll forgive me." I hope that's a good omen?
There are now five in our party, instead of three not counting Young Nick, who has no stomach for views. At Ellaline's expressed wish, Mrs. Senter and Dick Burden have come on with us from Hayling Island, where they were staying. We met them at a dance on the Thunderer, which Starlin captains. They have been invited to be of the party for a fortnight or so.
He found out about Madame de Blanchemain's nephew, Ellaline's Honoré, and put this and that together, until he'd patched up the theory of a love affair. But further he dared not go, on that track, so he pranced back to Versailles, and found out things about Audrie Brendon. The way he did that was through noticing the name of the Versailles photographer who took the group in the garden.
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