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I sketched him while sitting in his shirt-sleeves in the veranda, with his Letts's Diary on his knee; and the likeness on the frontispiece is an admirable portrait of him, because the artist who has assisted me, has with an intuitive eye, seen the defects in my own sketch; and by this I am enabled to restore him to the reader's view exactly as I saw him as he pondered on what he had witnessed during his long marches.
Here she was fated by her temperament to be in all cases a miserable victim, because panic, whether she were accepted or rejected by the object of her devotion, reduced her to incoherent foolishness; she could only be foolish now, and, although her heart beat like a leaping animal inside her, allowed Miss Letts to carry on the conversation. But Miss Letts's wandering eye hurt Mary's pride.
Letts rose sheepishly, and then to his great amazement a pair of strong young arms were flung round his neck, and a pair of warm lips after but slight trouble found his. Then and there Mr. Letts's mind was made up. "Oh, Jack!" said Miss Foster, and began to cry softly. "Oh, Jack!" said Mrs. Green, and, moved by thoughts, perhaps, of what might have been, began to cry too. "There, there!" said Mr.
He narrated his experience of the last few days, and, finding the listener sympathetic, talked at some length about himself and his voyages; also of his plans for the future. "I lost my son at sea," said the woman, with a sigh. "You favor him rather." Mr. Letts's face softened. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry you lost him, I mean."
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