Chapter 5
9 May.
My dearest Lucy,
Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed with work.
The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be
with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles
in the air. I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with
Jonathan's studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously.
When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can
stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and
write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practicing very hard.
He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic
journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same
way. I don't mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-
a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined.
I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but it is not
intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it anything
worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try to do what I see lady
journalists do, interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember
conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can remember all that
goes on or that one hears said during a day.
However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we meet. I have just
had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be
returning in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to
see strange countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see
them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye.
Your loving
Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long
time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man.???
17, Chatham Street
My dearest Mina,
I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I wrote you
twice since we parted, and your last letter was only your second. Besides, I have
nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you.
Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal to picture-galleries and
for walks and rides in the park. As to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was
the one who was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been telling
That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and Mamma get on
very well together, they have so many things to talk about in common.