If I were of his social grade--if I could have retained the position in which I was born, he would be my ideal as a husband. Such thoughts, alas! are not for Your Poor Friend, MARJORIE. St. Thomas, W.I., Jan. 29, 1898. My hand trembled so before I had half read this letter that I could not make out the lines. I had to put it down to finish it. Twice I crept to the door to see if Miss May was still on the lawn, playing with Laps. She was there, absorbed in her amusement and I finally finished it unchallenged. Then I left the room and went to my own, where I fell from sheer weakness upon my bed. Marjorie loved me! The reflection was overpowering. She was battling not only against me but against her own affections. I was absolutely dumfounded. What a train of thought swept through my heated brain! At one instant I resolved to offer her my hand in marriage that very day and have the ceremony performed in the evening, by one of the clergymen of Charlotte Amelie, with Eggert and his wife as witnesses. At the next I planned a slow campaign to win her, which, with the evidence in my possession, could have but one result. The slower way would bring the most pleasure, if I could persuade myself to patience. Again, the vision of my Uncle Dugald rose before me, mutely protesting against an alliance with one of whom I knew practically nothing. Then Tom Barton and Statia joined the procession, shaking their heads dolefully. Miss May's voice at my door aroused me to a sense of my condition and I bade her come in, if she was not afraid. She came quietly, removing as she did so her straw hat. A steamer had just entered the harbor, she said, that I might like to see. I always wanted to inspect each craft, and she supposed I would not like to miss this one. I sat up and listened to her in a half daze. How little she knew that the burning secret under her calm exterior was already in my possession. "Marjorie! Marjorie!" I could only repeat the name in the joy of my discovery; repeat it to myself, lock it in the recesses of my inmost bosom. I bathed my face, after which she took my brush and arranged my hair for me. How delicious her hands on my head! Some day they would be mine, and forever! I suffered her to lead me out of doors and set me a chair before the telescope, which she arranged to command a view of the incoming steamer. Eggert came while we were there, with a little trouble on his mind. The book that had annoyed Marjorie so--that copy of "Our Rival, the Rascal," had disappeared from his bookcase, and he wanted to know if either of us had seen it. Miss May shook her head with disgust, while I responded that I had left it on the table the night he showed it to me, and had never picked it up again. Eggert turned to the steamer I was watching through the glass and said he had known for an hour what it was--his seaman's eye had told him that when only the tops of her smokestacks were visible.