"I tell you, Cousin Fanny, though I'd been ripe for quarrel wi' Lancy
Doane myself that night, I could ha' took his hand like a brother, for I
never saw a man deal fairer wi' a scoundrel than he did wi' Jim Faddo.
You see, it wasn't what Faddo said about himself that made Laney wild,
but that about his brother Tom; and a man doesn't like his brother spoken
ill of by dirt like Faddo, be it true or false. And of Laney's brother
I'm goin' to write further on in this letter, for I doubt that you know
all I know about him, and the rest of what happened that night and
afterwards."

"DEAR COUSIN FANNY, I canna write all I set out to, for word come to me,
just as I wrote the last sentence above, that the ship was to leave port
three days sooner than was fixed for when I began. I have been rare and
busy since then, and I have no time to write more. And so 'twill be
another year before you get a word from me; but I hope that when this
letter comes you'll write one back to me by the ship that sails next
summer from London. The summer's short and the winter's long here, Cousin
Fanny, and there's more snow than grass; and there's more flowers in a
week in Mablethorpe than in a whole year here. But, lass, the sun shines
always, and my heart keeps warm in thinkin' of you, and I ask you to
forgive me for any harsh word I ever spoke, not forgettin' that last
night when I left you on the sands, and stole away like a thief across
the sea. I'm going to tell you the whole truth in my next letter, but I'd
like you to forgive me before you know it all, for 'tis a right lonely
and distant land, this, and who can tell what may come to pass in twice a
twelve month! Maybe a prayer on lips like mine doesn't seem in place, for
I've not lived as parson says man ought to live, but I think the Lord
will have no worse thought o' me when I say, God bless thee, lass, and
keep thee safe as any flower in His garden that He watereth with His own