n. We are
civilized aborigines gone mad with youth out here in the frigid zone,
and anything as grown up as bridge has failed to interest us. From our
home on the summit of "Kewanas Crag," Silver Lake looks like a stray
turquoise below and the mysterious Black Hills around us catch glimpses
of gold in the sunset hour, then dye themselves purple, take a tint of
glowing rose-water, then turn dull and gray; a drama of color goes on
ceaselessly; a play of ever shifting hues like those on a pigeon's
breast.

Do you know of anyone who has ever died in childbirth? If you do, don't
tell me, as I am beginning to be frightened. Not afraid of the agony,
for I rather enjoy pondering over the sacrifice, but so fearful of
leaving all of this barely tasted sweet behind me. It seems as though my
impatience would consume me--I want so to know whether I may be spared
for more and more days of our endless joy.

Your Christmas box came one day too soon and, like the child that I am
transformed into, I resorted to tears in order to wheedle Carlton into
permitting me to open it. The little things are wonderful and the
discretion of your love is more so. Each little article is an expression
of your faultless friendship, for losing which, not even Carlton's love
could compensate me.

The new decorations in my bed room are all in bloom like our love, and I
lie awake during my specified hours of rest, gathering mental roses from
my wall garden. My revival is as natural as the effect of May on the
meadows; of a shower on a dry plant. I awaken with the breath of my
Spring, which is heavy with Oriental sweetness like a rose of
Frangistan. I should not in such moments as these, feel a death blow.

All of the old mental bruises caused by knocking myself against corners,
some that I myself created at times, and others that I saw but could
not escape, are healed and quite forgotten in this new world of mine.

I press a goodnight kiss on your dear understanding lips.

MARIANNE.

The Black Hills.
February 1.

Dearest of all Friends:

Today for the first time I am permitted to write one letter, while Dr.
Harmen and Carlton are trying to discover traces of rare genius on the
head of Carlton Church Somerville Junior, who resembles one of those
cherubs circling about the Eternal Father in an old Italian picture.

Dizzy with the wonder of it a