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Updated: May 24, 2025
Your how-to-be-happy-though-undeserving, But ever loving, Audrie. Still Torquay, Ten Thirty, August 7th Dearest: I thought the moor would be impressive. It is overwhelming. Oh, this Devonshire of my father's people is far from being all a land of cream and roses! Dartmoor has given me so many emotions that I am tired, but I must tell you about it and them.
It won't be anything to be ashamed of, to have cared about a man like Sir Lionel; because I assure you I shan't behave foolishly, no matter how I may eventually feel. You can trust your Audrie for that. It was too dark to tell the time by a watch, but we remarked to each other that they must have finished dinner long ago; and Sir Lionel hoped this wouldn't spoil the memory of my birthday for me.
To-morrow, we are to be allowed, as a special favour, to see the inside of the Castle which towers up so grandly against the sky. It isn't open to the public; but Sir Lionel knows some relatives of the owners, so we are to be shown round. "To-morrow," I say. But if I don't stop at once, and go to bed, it will be "to-day." Ever your Audrie. Swan Hotel, Wells, Aug. 20th
I wonder if they are talking about each other, to each other, or about Dick and me? I feel as if I should have to scream "Sir Lionel, don't believe it. It isn't true!" But of course, I can't. I think I shall go to bed, and then I won't be tempted to look out of the window. Always your own loving Audrie. Please write at once, and address Poste Restante, Torquay.
Dear: I know you are miserable about me, but don't be it, because I'm not miserable about myself. Honour bright! I've done the hateful deed. It was at Newcastle: and I knew I was in for it, the minute I saw Dick. He's got his partnership, and thinks he's got me. But there's many a slip 'twixt Dick Burden and Audrie Brendon.
Do you remember how, when we were boys, we discussed favourite names, and placed Audrey high in the list among those of women? Here, in the Quantock Hills, they spell it "Audrie," for the saint who patronizes West Quantoxhead; and I have learned that it was the name which the outlawed Doone tribe best loved to give their girl children.
I shan't forget again. And hang the glove! Your poor, foolish, conceited, humiliated Audrie. Glen Lachlan, August 13th, 8 o'clock A.M. Senter, King Arthur's Castle, Tintagel, Cornwall: Returning to-day. Hope find you still at Tintagel. Try and make Pendragon stay if he plans to leave. Find some excuse. Dick. Tintagel, August 13th, 9.20 A.M. R. Burden, Glen Lachlan, N. B.
If she were bigger and more muscular, she'd have kissed and squeezed the breath of life out of me, which would have been awkward for her, as she'd then have been thrown back upon her own resources. Oh, ma petite poupee de Mere, only think of it! I go to-morrow into space. I disappear. I cease to exist pro tem. There will be no me, no Audrie, but, instead, two Ellalines.
I had supposed that if there were any foundation for the Doone story, it was as slight as the "fabric of a dream"; but he told me of a pamphlet he had read, "A Short History of the Original Doones," by a Miss Ida or Audrie Browne, only about eight or nine years ago.
Luckily he couldn't see me blush in the dark. But the real Audrie was always decently truthful, wasn't she? It's only this Ellaline-Audrie that isn't free to be true. "Only in women?" I asked, uncomfortably. "Truth goes without saying in men the sort of men one knows," said he. "Don't you think women love the truth as much as men?" I persisted. "No, I don't," he answered abruptly.
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