FullReads

July Twelfth.

Something has happened at last. Today I went to the shore as usual, fully resolved not even to glance in the forbidden direction. But in the end I had to take a peep, and saw him on the rocks with his glass levelled at me. When he saw that I was looking he laid down the glass, held up his hands, and began to spell out something in the deaf-mute alphabet. Now, I know that same alphabet. Connie taught it to me last year, so that we might hold communication across the schoolroom. I gave one frantic glance at Aunt Martha’s rigid back, and then watched him while he deftly spelled: “I am Francis Shelmardine. Are you not Miss Forrester, my sister’s friend?”

Francis Shelmardine! Now I knew whom he resembled. And have I not heard endless dissertations from Connie on this wonderful brother of hers, Francis the clever, the handsome, the charming, until he has become the only hero of dreams I have ever had? It was too wonderful. I could only stare dazedly back through my glass.

“May we know each other?” he went on. “May I come over and introduce myself? Right hand, yes; left, no.”

I gasped! Suppose he were to come? What would happen? I waved my left hand sorrowfully. He looked quite crestfallen and disappointed as he spelled out: “Why not? Would your friends disapprove?”

I signalled: “Yes.”

“Are you displeased at my boldness?” was his next question.

Where had all Aunt Martha’s precepts flown to then? I blush to record that I lifted my left hand shyly and had just time to catch his pleased expression when Aunt Martha came up and said it was time to go home. So I picked myself meekly up, shook the sand from my dress, and followed my good aunt dutifully home.

July Thirteenth.

When we went to the shore this morning I had to wait in spasms of remorse and anxiety until Aunt got tired of reading and set off along the shore with Mrs. Saxby. Then I reached for my glass.

Mr. Shelmardine and I had quite a conversation. Under the circumstances there could be no useless circumlocution in our exchange of ideas. It was religiously “boiled down,” and ran something like this:

“You are not displeased with me?”

“No–but I should be.”

“Why?”

“It is wrong to deceive Aunt.”

“I am quite respectable.”

“That is not the question.”

“Cannot her prejudices be overcome?”

“Absolutely no.”

“Mrs. Allardyce, who is staying at the hotel, knows her well. Shall I bring her over to vouch for my character?”

“It would not do a bit of good.”

“Then it is hopeless.”

“Yes.”

“Would you object to knowing me on your own account?”

“No.”

“Do you ever come to the shore alone?”

“No. Aunt would not permit me.”

“Must she know?”

“Yes. I would not come without her permission.”

“You will not refuse to chat with me thus now and then?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps not.”

I had to go home then. As we went Mrs. Saxby complimented me on my good colour. Aunt Martha looked her disapproval. If I were really ill Aunt would spend her last cent in my behalf, but she would be just as well pleased to see me properly pale and subdued at all times, and not looking as if I were too well contented in this vale of tears.

July Seventeenth.

I have “talked” a good deal with Mr. Shelmardine these past four days. He is to be at the beach for some weeks longer. This morning he signalled across from the rocks: “I mean to see you at last. Tomorrow I will walk over and pass you.”

“You must not. Aunt will suspect.”

“No danger. Don’t be alarmed. I will do nothing rash.”

I suppose he will. He seems to be very determined. Of course, I cannot prevent him from promenading on our beach all day if he chooses. But then if he did, Aunt would speedily leave him in sole possession of it.

I wonder what I had better wear tomorrow.

July Nineteenth.

Yesterday morning Aunt Martha was serene and unsuspicious. It is dreadful of me to be deceiving her and I do feel guilty. I sat down on the sand and pretended to read the “Memoirs of a Missionary”–Aunt likes cheerful books like that–in an agony of anticipation. Presently Aunt said, majestically: “Marguerite, there is a man coming this way. We will move further down.”