Much of the benefit of my time here, quite unconsciously to himself, comes to me from him. When he walks into the house, whistling like a blackbird; when he hangs up his cap on an antler a foot or two higher than other people could reach; when he ploughs unhesitatingly through his meals, with a book or a paper stuck up in front of him; when he dumps his big boots out into the passage, long after the quiet house has hushed into repose, and I smile, in the darkness, at the thought of how the sound will have annoyed Miss Murgatroyd, startled Miss Eliza, and made naughty Miss Susannah's heart flutter;--when all these things happen every day, I am conscious that a clearer understanding of the past, a new strength for the future, and a fresh outlook on life, come to me, simply from the fact that he is himself, and that he is here. Jim Airth may not be a saint; but he is a _man!_ Dear Jane, I should scarcely venture to send you this epistle, were it not for all the adjectives--"wholesome," "helpful," "understanding," etc., which so rightly apply to you. _You_ will not misunderstand. Of that I have no fear. But do not tell the doctor more than that I am very well, in excellent spirits, and happier than I have ever been in my life. Tell Garth I loved his last song. How often I sing to myself, as I walk in the sea breeze and sunshine, the hairbells waving round my feet: "On God's fair earth, 'mid blossoms blue, Fresh hope must ever spring." I trust I sing it in tune; but I know I have not much ear. And how is your little Geoffrey? Has he the beautiful shining eyes, we all remember? I have often laughed over your account of his sojourn at Overdene, and of how our dear naughty old duchess stirred him up to rebel against his nurse. You must have had your hands full when you and Garth returned from America. Oh, Jane, how different my life would have been if I had had a little son! Ah, well! "There is no room for sad despair, When heaven's love is everywhere." Tell Garth, I love it; but I wish he wrote simpler accompaniments. That one beats me! Yours, dear Jane, Gratefully and affectionately, MYRA INGLEBY. -------------------- _Letter from the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain to Lady Ingleby._ CASTLE GLENEESH, N. B. MY DEAR MYRA, No, I have not the smallest objection to representing rice pudding, or anything else plain and wholesome, providing I agree with you, and suffice for the need of the moment. I am indeed glad to have so good a report. It proves Deryck right in his diagnosis and prescription. Keep to the latter faithfully, in every detail.