"I am sure it gives him pleasure; but I'll go now and tell him you do not wish to go." After this Miss Eliza went away, and presently May heard the front door of the house shut sharply. It was Ralph Webster going out, with also a feeling of disappointment in his heart of which he was half-ashamed. "What can have tired her, I wonder?" he was reflecting. "She seemed as bright as possible last night." May in the meanwhile was thinking of what she should do about answering John Temple's letter. She had seen that gentle look of surprise in Miss Margaret's mild eyes when she had placed John's letter in her hand, and no doubt she would be yet more surprised when she asked her to inclose her own to him. Yet John had requested her to do this, and she must, of course, do as he wished. So after awhile she sat down to write to him. She had never written to him before, and this first love letter was therefore a very serious affair. She began it three times. "Dear John"--no, that was too cold. "My own dearest John"--no, that was too warm! "Dearest John;" yes, May thought that would do. Was he not her dearest John? Not only her dearest John, but the dearest to her of all on earth. May thought this as she went on with her letter. She told him how good and kind Miss Webster and Miss Eliza were to her, and she told him also of all the places and amusements they had taken her to see. "Their nephew, Mr. Ralph Webster, has gone with us generally, also," she added; "but oh! how I wish you were here, John. It all seems like a beautiful new world to me, but I miss you always. Still you must run no risks for my sake. And John, dear John, do keep out of the way of that wretched Mr. Henderson. Somehow I am afraid of him, though I know he can do you no harm. But he is a passionate-tempered man, I am certain, and cruel, as we know after the way he behaved to that poor, poor girl who shot herself. I wonder if her spirit ever haunts him? Her memory must, I am certain, for no doubt he broke her heart." After she had once begun her letter May found it quite easy to go on. It seemed almost as if she were talking to John; telling him her thoughts as she had done in the still garden at Woodside, when no one was by to listen. Note-sheet after note-sheet she filled with this fond prattling, until she suddenly remembered with dismay that hers would be such a big letter for Miss Webster to inclose to John. Still she could not part with one word. She pressed her sheets together as tightly as she could, and then went somewhat nervously down-stairs with her letter in her hand to seek Miss Webster. Miss Eliza had gone out to change her novel at the nearest library, for Miss Eliza was a great lover of fiction, and thus May found Miss Webster alone in the dining-room industriously engaged in marking some household linen. May felt that she colored painfully when Miss Webster raised her kind eyes as she entered the room and greeted May with a smile.