slike me!' And I wished she hadn't
said it. I had a feeling you wouldn't like that `personal' way of
talking that she enjoys--and that--oh, it didn't seem to be in
keeping with the dignity of You! And I love Cora so much I wanted
her to be finer--with You. I wanted her to understand you better
than to play those little charming tricks at you. You are so good,
so _high_, that if she could make a real friend of you I think it
would be the best thing for her that could happen. She's never had
a man-_friend_. Perhaps she _was_ trying to make one of you and
hasn't any other way to go about it. She can be so _really_ sweet,
I wanted you to see that side of her.

"Afterwhile, when Ray couldn't bear it any longer to talk to me,
and in his desperation brazenly took Cora to the other end of the
porch almost by force, and I was left, in a way, alone with you
what did you think of me? I was tongue-tied! Oh, oh, oh! You were
quiet--but _I_ was _dumb_! My heart wasn't dumb--it hammered! All
the time I kept saying to myself such a jumble of things. And into
the jumble would come such a rapture that You were there--it was
like a paean of happiness--a chanting of the glory of having You
near me--I _was_ mixed up! I could _play_ all those confused
things, but writing them doesn't tell it. Writing them would only
be like this: `He's here, he's _here_! Speak, you little fool!
He's here, he's here! He's sitting beside you! _speak_, idiot, or
he'll never come back! He's here, he's beside you you could put
out your hand and touch him! Are you dead, that you can't speak?
He's here, he's here, he's _here_!'

"Ah, some day I shall be able to talk to you--but not till I get
more used to this inner song. It seems to _will_ that nothing else
shall come from my lips till _it_ does!

"In spite of my silence--my outward woodenness--you said, as you
went away, that you would come again! You said `soon'! I could
only nod but Cora called from the other end of the porch and
asked: `_How_ soon?' Oh, I bless her for it, because you said,
`Day after to-morrow.' Day after tomorrow! Day after to-morrow!
_Day after tomorrow_!

. . . . "Twenty-one hours since I wrote--no, _sang_--`Day after
to-morrow!' And now it is `To-morrow!' Oh, the slow, golden day
that this has been! I could not stay in the house--I walked--no, I
_winged_! I was in the open country before I knew it--with You!
For You are in everything. I never knew the sky was blue, before.
Until no