Sermant, reason

behind such troubles.

GORDON. He's not the sort of person to write letters. There's a man who

knows to do it.

NEWTON. Of course he knows. Haydon's a fellow who writes a thousand

letters a week.

GODLEY. He is.

BILLY. And indeed, I think he writes more with his head in the clouds

than he writes with his hands.

THE VOYAGER. The man is a strong man. He has learnt a great deal

before he came to Caledonia.

LEWIS. I will tell you something, sir. There was one thing that was

different about Haydn. I have known his aunt, from her youth,

without ever hearing him in the presence of her husband. The dark

heart of your father had given a deathblow to a man's lust for

fame and fortune. At a certain time, when he was just beginning to

become a lunatic, he was fortunate enough to have a daughter at his

side. We know she is a mere sweetheart, but we know she has a great

deal of a secret. In this particular person she had done something

that she would not have done to any man at all. She did not despise

Haydns. They were worthy men. She only knew that she could trust

a man with a thick skin and a masculine image to care for her.

Had she only told her father, he would have come and rescued her

with the sacred object of returning to her to guard her from this

beautiful passion that had overpowered him.

He would have saved her from her hand. She was not the wicked queen,

he knew she was, and he had been frightened. But he did not tell her

the truth about himself. He used to think about Mary. He missed

her through the years. And he never will be able to forget her. She

was his daughter's sister. And there are some words that are bound

to a man after death. There is nothing else that might divide

him from it. Had he a.