from Miss Lucy Westenra to Miss Mina Murray
[undated - probably mid-May*]
LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY
17, Chatham Street
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.
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 tales.
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.
We met some
time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to
Jonathan. He is an excellent 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 it.
says 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.
note - I have made a 'best guess' of 14 May for this letter.