Therefore, although he had had her letters forwarded from London down to the village, he had not troubled himself to reply; and now that he was better he had a weakness of the eyes so that the doctor forbade him to use the pen. In this dilemma, he had recourse, of all people in the world, to his son, to act as his amanuensis. The father and son were on excellent terms now, and the young couple had taken up their quarters at the inn at his urgent request, to help while away the dull hours until he was well enough to go. “Here, Berry, you write the letter for father to his sweetheart!” cried Charley coaxingly. But Berry, always so gentle, suddenly turned stubborn and flatly declined: “I will have nothing to do now, or ever, with Miss Montague!” she said, shaking her dark, curly head. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE UNWELCOME LETTER. Charley took up the pen to write to his future stepmother, and looked at his father. “Shall you dictate, sir, or will you tell me your desires and leave the rest to me?” he asked. “I will tell you what to say, and you may put it in your own words,” Senator Bonair replied. So it happened in due time that there came across the sea to anxious Rosalind this answer to her charming love letter: “DEAR ROSALIND: You’ll be surprised to get this letter from me in answer to your loving one to father, but as you have consoled yourself for my fault, I hope you bear no ill will, and that you are willing to let bygones be bygones. To tell you the honest truth, Rosalind, I’m so happy with my darling little wife, I feel at peace and amity with the whole world, and as dad wants me to write you this letter, I embrace the chance to tell you so. I don’t mind your marrying dad, if you love him. If not, please don’t, for his happiness is very dear to me. “You wondered why dad failed to write to you, and he wants me to explain. Well, this is why: Along late in August he came down here to the little village by the sea, alone, with his valet, and first thing he knew he came down with a horrid case of smallpox, and everybody deserted him but Tousey, who didn’t know a single thing about nursing or cooking, either, so dad was likely to die. By the best luck in the world my wife happened to be in the neighborhood (I was in London myself), and she went to his aid, like a brick (excuse slang). You see, she had had smallpox and knew how to nurse it. She also knew how to get a decent meal, so between her two accomplishments she dragged dad out of the jaws of death. Then she wrote me to send a London doctor, which I did, and although the sick man went down to the gates of death they dragged him back, and now he is convalescent, but not allowed to read or write yet, so he is using my pen and eyes to allay your anxiety. “Of course, it follows, dad has forgiven Berry and me, and just dotes now on my charming wife.