ttle here. Nothing that I could believe interesting to you;
nothing really but have walks and practise my music and read; and
talk sometimes with Mrs. Talcott. About once in two months the
vicar's wife has tea with us, and about once in two months we have
tea with her; that is all. And I am sure you cannot like
descriptions of landscapes. I love to look at landscapes and
dislike reading what other people have to say about them; and is
not that the same with you? It is quite different that you should
write to me of things and people; for you see so many and you do so
much and you know that to someone in the depths of the country all
this must be very interesting. So do not punish me for my dullness
by ceasing to write to me.--Sincerely yours,

"Karen Woodruff."

* * * * *

"Les Solitudes,
"April 10th.

"Dear Mr. Jardine,--Of course I will write you descriptions of
landscapes!--and of all my daily routine, if you really care to
hear. No; I am not lonely, though of course I miss my guardian very
much. I have the long, long walks with Victor, in wet weather over
the inland moors along the roads, and in fine weather along the
high cliff paths; sometimes we walk ten miles in an afternoon and
come back very tired for tea. In the evenings I sit with Mrs.
Talcott over the fire. You ask me to describe Mrs. Talcott to you,
and to tell you all about her. She is with me now, and we are in
the morning room, where we always sit; for the great music-room
that opens on the verandah and fronts the sea is shut when my
guardian is not here. This room looks over the sea, too, but from
the side of the house and through an arabesque of trees. The walls
are filled with books and flowering bulbs stand in the windows. We
have had our tea and the sunlight slants in over the white freesia
and white hyacinths. There are primroses everywhere, too, and they
make the room seem more full of sunlight. You could hardly see a
more beautiful room. Mrs. Talcott sits before the fire with her
skirt turned up and her feet in square-toed shoes on the fender and
looks into the fire. She is short and thick and very old, but she
does not seem old; she is hard; not soft and withered. She has a
large, calm face with very yellow skin, and very light blue e