We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already
engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellant parti, being handsome, well off, and of
good birth. He is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and
twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr.
Holmwood introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes
now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet the most
calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what a wonderful power he
must have over his patients. He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the
face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I
flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass.
Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad
study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried
He say that I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think I do. I
do not, as you know, take sufficient interest in dress to be able to describe the
new fashions. Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind. Arthur says
that every day.
There, it is all out, Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other since we were
children. We have slept together and eaten together, and laughed and cried
together, and now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, Mina,
couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write, for although I think he
loves me, he has not told me so in words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him!
There, that does me good.
I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit, and I
would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I
am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do
so want to tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you think
about it. Mina, pray for my happiness.
P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. Goodnight again. L.
LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY
My dearest Mina,
Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It was so nice to be
able to tell you and to have your sympathy.
My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. Here am I,
who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal till today, not a
real proposal, and today I had three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't
it awful! I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. Oh, Mina, I
am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. And three proposals! But,
for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the girls, or they would be getting all sorts of
extravagant ideas, and imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very
first day at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You and I,
Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old
married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must tell you about the three, but you
must keep it a secret, dear, from every one except, of course, Jonathan. You will