“DEARLY BELOVED,—­I am so happy that I cannot wait a minute without telling you about it.  I have done a naughty thing, but, as it is the first time I ever disobeyed you, I hope you will forgive me.  You told me never to go to the plantation without you.  But I waited and waited, and you didn’t come; and we were so happy there, that lovely day, that I longed to go again.  I knew it would be very lonesome without you; but I thought it would be some comfort to see again the places where we walked together, and sang together, and called each other all manner of foolish fond names.  Do you remember how many variations you rung upon my name,—­Rosabella, Rosalinda, Rosamunda, Rosa Regina?  How you did pelt me with roses!  Do you remember how happy we were in the garden bower?  How we sang together the old-fashioned canzonet, ’Love in thine eyes forever plays’?  And how the mocking-bird imitated your guitar, while you were singing the Don Giovanni serenade?

“I was thinking this all over, as I rode alone over the same ground we traversed on that happy day.  But it was so different without the love-light of your eyes and the pressure of your dear hand, that I felt the tears gathering, and had all manner of sad thoughts.  I feared you didn’t care for me as you used to do, and were finding it easy to live without me.  But when I entered the parlor that overlooks the beautiful lawn, all my doubts vanished.  You had encouraged me to hope that it might be our future home; but I little dreamed it was to be so soon, and that you were preparing such a charming surprise for me.  Don’t be vexed with me, dearest, for finding out your secret.  It made me so happy!  It made the world seem like Paradise.  Ah!  I knew why everything was so rose-colored.  It was so like you to think of that!  Then everything is so elegant!  You knew your Rosamunda’s taste for elegance.

“But Tulee summons me to supper.  Dear, good, faithful Tulee!  What a comfort she has been to me in this lonesome time!”

* * * * *

“Now I have come back to the pretty little writing-desk you gave me, and I will finish my letter.  I feel as if I wanted to write to you forever, if I can’t have you to talk to.  You can’t imagine how lonesome I have been.  The new music you sent me was charming; but whatever I practised or improvised took a solemn and plaintive character, like the moaning of the sea and the whispering of the pines.  One’s own voice sounds so solitary when there is no other voice to lean upon, and no appreciating ear to listen for the coming chords.  I have even found it a relief to play and sing to Tulee, who is always an admiring listener, if not a very discriminating one; and as for Tom, it seems as if the eyes would fly out of his head when I play to him.  I have tried to take exercise every day, as you advised; but while the hot weather lasted, I was afraid of snakes, and the mosquitoes and sand-flies were tormenting.