The Old Fellow's Letter Page #2

"The Old Fellow's Letter" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming and contemplative story that explores themes of nostalgia, friendship, and the passage of time. Through the correspondence of an elderly man reflecting on his life experiences and cherished memories, Montgomery weaves a narrative that highlights the importance of connection and the lasting impact of meaningful relationships. The gentle prose and heartfelt sentiments invite readers to appreciate the beauty of life's simple moments and the wisdom that comes with age.

• Short story

								

possibly love him a little bit and all that sort of thing.

I copied the letter out on heliotrope paper in my best imitation of
the Old Fellow's handwriting and signed it, "Yours devotedly and
imploringly, George Osborne." Then we mailed it that very evening.

The next evening the Cad girls gave a big reception in the Assembly
Hall to an Academy alumna who was visiting the Greek professor's wife.
It was the smartest event of the term and everybody was
there--students and faculty and, of course, Sylvia Grant. Sylvia
looked stunning. She was all in white, with a string of pearls about
her pretty round throat and a couple of little pink roses in her black
hair. I never saw her so smiling and bright; but she seemed quieter
than usual, and avoided poor Micky so skilfully that it was really a
pleasure to watch her. The Old Fellow came in late, with his tie all
crooked, as it always was; I saw Sylvia blush and nudged Ruggles to
look.

"She's thinking of the letter," he said.

Ruggles and I never meant to listen, upon my word we didn't. It was
pure accident. We were in behind the flags and palms in the Modern
Languages Room, fixing up a plan how to get Em and Jennie off for a
moonlit stroll in the grounds--these things require diplomacy I can
tell you, for there are always so many other fellows hanging
about--when in came Sylvia Grant and the Old Fellow arm in arm. The
room was quite empty, or they thought it was, and they sat down just
on the other side of the flags. They couldn't see us, but we could see
them quite plainly. Sylvia still looked smiling and happy, not a bit
mad as we had expected, but just kind of shy and radiant. As for the
Old Fellow, he looked, as Em White would say, as Sphinx-like as ever.
I'd defy any man alive to tell from the Old Fellow's expression what
he was thinking about or what he felt like at any time.

Then all at once Sylvia said softly, with her eyes cast down, "I
received your letter, Mr. Osborne."

Any other man in the world would have jumped, or said, "My letter!!!"
or shown surprise in some way. But the Old Fellow has a nerve. He
looked sideways at Sylvia for a moment and then he said kind of drily,
"Ah, did you?"

"Yes," said Sylvia, not much above a whisper. "It--it surprised me
very much. I never supposed that you--you cared for me in that way."

"Can you tell me how I could help caring?" said the Old Fellow in the
strangest way. His voice actually trembled.

"I--I don't think I would tell you if I knew," said Sylvia, turning
her head away. "You see--I don't want you to help caring."

"Sylvia!"

You never saw such a transformation as came over the Old Fellow. His
eyes just blazed, but his face went white. He bent forward and took
her hand.

"Sylvia, do you mean that you--you actually care a little for me,
dearest? Oh, Sylvia, do you mean that?"

"Of course I do," said Sylvia right out. "I've always cared--ever
since I was a little girl coming here to school and breaking my heart
over mathematics, although I hated them, just to be in your class.
Why--why--I've treasured up old geometry exercises you wrote out for
me just because you wrote them. But I thought I could never make you
care for me. I was the happiest girl in the world when your letter
came today."

"Sylvia," said the Old Fellow, "I've loved you for years. But I never
dreamed that you could care for me. I thought it quite useless to tell
you of my love--before. Will you--can you be my wife, darling?"

At this point Ruggles and I differ as to what came next. He asserts
that Sylvia turned square around and kissed the Old Fellow. But I'm
sure she just turned her face and gave him a look and then he kissed
her.

Anyhow, there they both were, going on at the silliest rate about how
much they loved each other and how the Old Fellow thought she loved
Micky and all that sort of thing. It was awful. I never thought the
Old Fellow or Sylvia either could be so spooney. Ruggles and I would
have given anything on earth to be out of that. We knew we'd no
business to be there and we felt as foolish as flatfish. It was a
tremendous relief when the Old Fellow and Sylvia got up at last and
trailed away, both of them looking idiotically happy.

"Well, did you ever?" said Ruggles.

It was a girl's exclamation, but nothing else would have expressed his
feelings.

"No, I never," I said. "To think that Sylvia Grant should be sweet on
the Old Fellow when she could have Micky! It passes comprehension. Did
she--did she really promise to marry him, Ruggles?"

"She did," said Ruggles gloomily. "But, I say, isn't that Old Fellow
game? Tumbled to the trick in a jiff; never let on but what he wrote
the letter, never will let on, I bet. Where does the joke come in,
Polly, my boy?"

"It's on us," I said, "but nobody will know of it if we hold our
tongues. We'll have to hold them anyhow, for Sylvia's sake, since
she's been goose enough to go and fall in love with the Old Fellow.
She'd go wild if she ever found out the letter was a hoax. We have
made that match, Ruggles. He'd never have got up enough spunk to tell
her he wanted her, and she'd probably have married Micky out of
spite."

"Well, you know the Old Fellow isn't a bad sort after all," said
Ruggles, "and he's really awfully gone on her. So it's all right.
Let's go and find the girls."
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