... However, that was not to be Marjorie's
affair.... It was work for men only.
* * * * *
"Here they are," she said, holding out the packet.
He took them and thanked her.
"I may read them at my leisure? I may take them with me?"
She had not meant that, but there was no help for it now.
"Why, yes, if you wish," she said. "Stay; let me show you which they
are. You may not wish to take them all."
* * * * *
The letters that the two looked over together in that wainscoted parlour
at Booth's Edge lie now in an iron case in a certain muniment-room. They
are yellow now, and the ink is faded to a pale dusky red; and they must
not be roughly unfolded lest they should crack at the creases. But they
were fresh then, written on stout white paper, each occupying one side
of a sheet that was then folded three or four times, sealed, and
inscribed to "Mistress Marjorie Manners" in the middle, with the word
"Haste" in the lower corner. The lines of writing run close together,
and the flourishes on one line interweave now and again with the tails
on the next.
The first was written within a week of Robin's coming to Rheims, and
told the tale of the sailing, the long rides that followed it, the
pleasure the writer found at coming to a Catholic country, and something
of his adventures upon his arrival with his little party. But names and
places were scrupulously omitted.
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