Chapter XIV: A Bit of Edelweiss

"My dear Miss Lethbridge--"

("That's altogether too formal, isn't it?" said Fanny, looking up
from the letter. "Why doesn't the stupid fellow commence with, 'My
own dearest Fanny'? It would be very much nicer, wouldn't it?")

"My dear Miss Lethbridge,--Since my last we have had glorious
weather, and I have been to no end of places, enjoying myself
thoroughly. The only drawback is that I am without a companion, and
that I sometimes feel rather lonely--"

("If there ever _was_ a young fellow," said Fanny, "cut out for a
family man, it is Fred.")

"And that I sometimes feel rather lonely. But we cannot have
everything we wish for in this world, and I shall soon be home. One
satisfaction is that I am making myself well acquainted with the
route I have taken--as delightful a track as can be imagined--and
that it will be a great pleasure by-and-by to guide some one who
has never been to the beauty-land of Switzerland over the ground I
have traversed--"

("I wonder," said Fanny, "if he has anybody in his eye, and whether
he is thinking of a honey-moon!")

"Over the ground I have traversed. I received your pleasant, chatty
letter, telling me all the news, and I cannot thank you enough for
it. You are a model of a correspondent. So you all went to hear
_Faust_ at Covent Garden; I can imagine how you enjoyed yourselves,
loving music as you do. When I was at Milan I went to La Scala,
about which everybody who hasn't seen it raves. It isn't a patch on
Covent Garden. You say it would have done my heart good if I had
seen how beautiful Miss Farebrother looked--"

("I gave him," said Fanny, "a most elaborate description of our
dresses.")

"To see how beautiful Miss Farebrother looked. You need scarcely
have told me that; she always looks beautiful--and so do you--"

("_I_ come in," said Fanny, tossing her head, "as a kind of
make-weight. Out of common politeness he could not have said
less.")

"And so do you. On my way to the Grimsel this afternoon I stopped
at Handek to see the Falls. I am not sure that I do not admire them
more than any I have yet passed. They are truly grand; and I wish I
could have gathered some of the wonderful ferns low down the ravine
to have inclosed in this letter. Before I reached the Falls I
stopped at a hut, and there was a girl shelling peas. Quite a young
girl, not more than seventeen, I should say; but there was
something about her that reminded me of Miss Farebrother. Nothing
like so pretty and sweet; but her hair was the same colour, and she
was about the same height. She got me some milk, and I stopped a
few minutes to rest, and helped her to pick her peas--"

("It has been my opinion," said Fanny, "ever since I had the
pleasure of Fred's acquaintance, that he was little better than a
flirt. He ought to be ashamed of himself. The least he could do was
to keep these things to himself.")

"Helped her to pick her peas. We had an agreeable chat, although
she spoke a patois of which I did not understand a single word. It
was very comical--"

("Very," said Fanny, with a fine touch of sarcasm.)

"Comical. Then I went on my way rejoicing, and it was quite dark
when I reached the Grimsel. The monks are very hospitable; they
gave me a good dinner and a good bottle of wine, for which they
charge nothing; only one is expected to put something in the box
for the poor before he leaves the hospice. I am up here in the
mountains, nearly seven thousand feet above the level of the sea;
out side there is a melancholy, sombre sheet of water called the
Todten-See, or the Dead Lake. It is said to contain no living
thing, only ghosts. Before I go to bed I shall go and see them. I
am sorry to hear that the firm in which Bob was employed has
failed, and that he is out of a situation. Hope he will soon get
another, and that his career will shed lustre and renown on the
name of Lethbridge. And I am truly sorry to hear that Miss
Farebrother has sprained her wrist--"

("Oh, Fanny!" cried Phoebe, "I didn't." "I told him you did," said
Fanny, calmly. "When a man is away, things must _not_ be allowed to
languish. The interest _must_ be kept up somehow.")

"Sprained her wrist. She must take the greatest care of it. Of
course you do not allow her to touch the piano. You ask me how she
would look with her hair cut short--"

("Well!" gasped Phoebe. "It is really too bad of you. Nothing could
induce me to have my hair cut off. I have never mentioned such a
thing." "_I_ mentioned it," said Fanny, with a little laugh. "Trust
me for managing these affairs. He will be overjoyed when he comes
home and finds your hair just as beautiful as when he left. He will
say something about it, to which you will reply--exposing me, of
course--and then he will pay you no end of compliments.")

"With her hair cut short. Are you serious? I know what a quiz you
are, and I suspect you are amusing yourself at my expense. I can
hardly believe that Miss Farebrother has any such intention. I
never saw such beautiful hair as hers--"

("Thank you, sir," said Fanny.)

"Such beautiful hair as hers, and she will be doing very wrong if
she allows herself to be persuaded to adopt what I consider an
odious fashion. You know my opinion about mannish women; I would
banish them to some distant island if I had my way, where, as there
would be no men among them, there might be a chance of their
recovering their right senses. When I was in Milan I bought three
lace handkerchiefs: one for Miss Farebrother, one for yourself, and
one for your kind mother. I have something also for Uncle Leth and
Bob. Please give them all my very kindest regards, and tell Aunt
Leth I am longing to have tea with her, and to taste her wonderful
gooseberry jam again."

(Fanny had to stop here to laugh, and then she said: "Look, Phoebe,
here are a lot of dots. His recollection of the gooseberry jam
overcame him, and he went out to the Dead Lake to see the ghosts.")

"I threw down my pen, and went out for a stroll. It is a beautiful
night. The Dead Lake does not sustain its reputation when the stars
are shining on it. I tried to conjure up the ghosts, but they would
not come. Instead of ghosts, all sorts of pleasant memories took
shape, for the chief of which I have to thank your happy home. I
thought of you all, and of the many acts of hospitality for which I
am indebted to you. There is in such scenes as this a spirit of
peace inexpressibly soothing, forming a reminiscence to be long
remembered. The reflection of the stars in the still waters
rendered it impossible to credit their evil reputation. The lake
was a fairy lake, and as such I shall always think of it. Upon
entering the hospice I heard the monks praying in low voices. Now I
must to bed. Convey my kindest remembrances to Miss Farebrother,
and receive the same yourself, from

"Yours very sincerely,

FREDERICK CORNWALL."

"That is something like a letter," said Fanny. "Fred is quite a poet. Don't you think so?"

"He writes beautifully," replied Phoebe.

"Lace handkerchiefs," said Fanny. "I wonder whose will be the prettiest? Mine, I should say."

"You deserve the best."

"There can be no doubt of that; but then men are so ungrateful. I must confess I can't quite get over that girl at Handek. The idea of his helping her to shell peas!"

"It was very kind of him."

"It was nothing of the sort; it was a downright shameless piece of flirtation, and I shall take him to task for it. I shouldn't so much have minded it if _I_ had been the girl; would you? Oh, how foolish of me!--there is a postscript to the letter. Just think of a young woman forgetting a 'P.S.'!"

"As if you did not know it was there!" said Phoebe, with a tender smile. "What does it say?"

"Well, I never! Just listen. 'P.S.--My own dearest girl----'"

"Eh?" cried Phoebe.

"No; it is a mistake of mine. He has left that out. 'P.S.--I have kept this letter by me four days, and it is time I posted it, or I shall be home before you receive it. I expect to reach London on Friday morning.' What do you think of that, Phoebe? How many to the minute is your heart going? Friday morning. The day after to-morrow. I shan't be able to sleep a wink. But there is something more, Phoebe; that is not the end of the postscript. It goes on: 'Enclosed are two small packets, one with your name outside, one with Miss Farebrother's. I dare say you have not seen the flower they contain. It is the edelweiss, a flower which, always worn, brings luck and good fortune. If you will give me the opportunity, when I come home, I shall regard it as a great favour if you will allow me to put a piece of edelweiss in lockets for you both. With constant regards, Fred C.' Here is your packet, Phoebe."

Phoebe opened the paper, and gazed at the white flower, around which the traveller had arranged a few forget-me-nots.

"He calls it," said Fanny, "a flower of luck and good fortune. _I_ know the right name for it, if he doesn't."

"What is its right name?" asked Phoebe.

"It is a love flower--nothing less. I shall put mine under my pillow, and shall dream of My Own. Not yours--mine; I am not a poacher. I will tell you what he is like in the morning. Good-night, dear Phoebe."

"Good-night, darling," said Phoebe.

Both the girls put their flowers of love under their pillows, and had happy dreams.