Datasets:
Beifengdo
/
Python-Learning

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
text
stringlengths
0
73
with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying.
I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together
freely and build our castles in the air. I have been working very hard
lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's studies, and I have
been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall
be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I
can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for
him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard. He
and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a
stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I
shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't mean one of those
two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a
sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined. I do not
suppose there will be much of interest to other people; but it is not
intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it
anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try
to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing
descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with
a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears
said during a day. However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little
plans when we meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan
from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I
am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice to see strange
countries. I wonder if we--I mean Jonathan and I--shall ever see them
together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Good-bye.
"Your loving
"MINA.
"Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for
a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome,
curly-haired man???"
_Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray_.
"_17, Chatham Street_,
"_Wednesday_.
"My dearest Mina,--
"I must say you tax me _very_ unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I
wrote to you _twice_ since we parted, and your last letter was only your
_second_. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing
to interest you. Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a good deal
to picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As to the
tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who was with me at the
last Pop. Some one has evidently been telling tales. That was Mr.
Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and mamma get on very well
together; they have so many things to talk about in common. We met some
time ago a man that would just _do for you_, if you were not already
engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent _parti_, being handsome, well
off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really clever. Just fancy! He
is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum all under
his own care. Mr. Holmwood introduced him to me, and he called here to
see us, and often comes now. I think he is one of the most resolute men
I ever saw, and yet the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I
can fancy what a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has
a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to
read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter
myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do
you ever try to read your own face? _I do_, and I can tell you it is not
a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you
have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological
study, and I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient
interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. Dress is a
bore. That is slang again, but never mind; Arthur says that every day.
There, it is all out. Mina, we have told all our secrets to each other
since we were _children_; we have slept together and eaten together, and
laughed and cried together; and now, though I have spoken, I would like
to speak more. Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing
as I write, for although I _think_ he loves me, he has not told me so in
words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him! There, that
does me good. I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire
undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel.
I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop,
or I should tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I _do_ so
want to tell you all. Let me hear from you _at once_, and tell me all
that you think about it. Mina, I must stop. Good-night. Bless me in your
prayers; and, Mina, pray for my happiness.
"LUCY.
"P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. Good-night again.
"L."
_Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray_.
"_24 May_.
"My dearest Mina,--
"Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It was so
nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy.
"My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are.
Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a