The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1902-05-13

ancient tree at the bottom Of the thick
ct, which was such a favorite spot Of
yours. I send It as decoy. Today I
went down TO our little green nook be
side the weir. and. leaving the shade of
the trees, lay on my back In the green
moss, STEPPED to the very soul in sun
shine and shut my eyes. and listened
to the larks. All the Iarks in England
seemed gathered together in that spot.
each striving. out of purest JOY, to
drown the others song.
All the hedges are pink with Wild
rose buds. Your nightingale has built
a nest close beside the stream, and
tries his hardest to disclaim all owner
ship; but today. while he was absent.
l erept up and peeped. There are four
eggs, cool and greeny- brown; but I
dared not stay for more than one
glance, as the poor little hen was so
agitated. He sings almost all day and
night, too, without intermission. I
have never heard him in such glorious
song as this season.
VIII you not come down and iisten2
I expect the hedgelings out next week.
Would you not like TO see them2 The
woods are a study in blue and green.
The ground is literally carpeted with
wild hyacinth. ! really must be very
unwell. ! wish you would come down
and give me your advice. have never
felt so strange and restless in my life
before. Please do not make fun Of me.
1 do not like il. And II is so ridicu-
ious and unfOunded. I thought I had
proved 10 you its utter absurdity."
Marjorie wrote a stiff, polite little
note in reply to this, not once mention
ing the word love" She thanked hins
for the beautiful blossom, regretted
very much to hear Of his indisposition,
but saw no possibility Of her coming
down to Sunnymead again this sum
mer. And that was all.
Marjorie thought Of the woods, still
wearing their intense blue carpet Of
hyacinths, though rapidly fading now.
She thought of sundry little secret
hooks of cool greenness, where she was
sure she could find Clumps of fragrant
lilies of the valley. and she sighed as
in fancy she wandered over the golden
heath. past the splashing weir,
and into the blue, soft shade Of the
pines
Then, on the 9th Of June, came the
following:
My Dear Marjorie: Ny eyes are open
now. and I cannot realize my Grass
stupidity and blindness Of, the last
three months. They have been opened
since the Wednesday before last, when
4 received your unkind letter; and I
have been trying to write and tell you
all this time, but dared not. How shall
1 confess? And what will you think
Of me? For you were right-right
from the first.
Il am in love-hopelessly wholly and
unchangeably in lOve-though I had
not the slightest suspicion of the thing.
1 am afraid the name viii be
a great shock TO you. I feel l dare
not write il. / will write IL
quickly. and get it over. 1t is Marjorie
Westbrook. There! I have
done It. love you'll love you, and 1
cannot keep the knowledge to myself
any longer.
Everywhere 1 go, in fancy you go
with me. The wind through the pines
whispers. Marjorie Marjorie the
water laughs down into the weir
splashing Marjorie Marjorie every
flower, leaf. and blossom murmurs
your name, and the birds can sing
nothing else but Marjorie. What am
to do? The sickness OF love lies
heavy upon me. Marjorie, Margorie,
viii you undertake the cure?"
Marjorie laughed soft little laugh
Of purest happiness. and her eyes were
like speedwells drenched in dew, Her
answer went that morning:
Dearest Eros: I have known IL all
along. But what was a poor, modest
maid to do? Truly, truly have I proved
that love is blind. Your waiting
PSYCHE"