themselves than we
like to admit--especially in our youth. Men and women in middle life may
have true and intimate friendships without any thought of marriage. I
doubt whether this is possible for young people, though I know it is the
fashion nowadays to behave as though it were. And especially is it
difficult--or impossible--where there has been any thought of love--on
either side. For love is the great, unmanageable, explosive thing, which
cannot be tamed down, at a word, into friendship--not in youth at any
rate. The attempt to treat it as a negligible quantity can only bring
suffering and misunderstanding.
"But I must not preach to you like this. I am sure you know--now--that
what I say has truth in it. Thank you again for the feeling that dictated
your letter. Harry is very well and very busy. We hoped to go to London
before Christmas, but this most difficult and unhappy affair of Mrs.
Melrose and her daughter detains us. Whether we shall obtain justice for
them in the end I do not know. At present the adverse influences are very
strong--and the indignation of all decent people seems to make no
difference. Mr. Faversham's position is indeed difficult to understand.
"Please remember me kindly to your mother and sister. Next year I hope we
shall be able to meet as usual. But for the present, as you and Harry
have agreed, it is better not."
* * * * *
Victoria was extremely dissatisfied with this letter when she had done
it. But she knew very well that Harry would have resented a single harsh
word from her toward the misguided Lydia; and she did not know how better
to convey the warning that burnt on her lips with regard to Faversham.
* * * * *
Lydia received Victoria's letter on the day of her return to the cottage.
Her mother remained in London.
Susy welcomed her sister affectionately, but with the sidelong looks of
the observer. Ever since the evening of Lady Tatham's visit when Lydia
had come back with white face and red eyes from her walk with Harry
Tatham, and when the following night had been broken for Susy by the
sound of her sister's weeping in the room next to her, it had been
recognized by the family that the Tatham affair had ended in disaster,
and that Duddon was henceforth closed to them. Lydia told her mother
enough to plunge that poor lady into even greater wonder than before at
the hopeless divergence of young people to-day f
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