CHAPTER V

THE LETTER

Hassan Bey did not forget the insult which had been offered him in sending Armenouhi beyond his reach. Frequent inquiries for her brought him little satisfaction, but they convinced her people that her return to the village would again expose her to his persistent wooing. Dicran went to see her during the spring vacation. Throwing her arms about the old man’s neck, she smothered him with kisses; and then, sitting on his knee, she gently stroked his rough face. She had a thousand questions to ask concerning her sister Vassinag and her father, and a thousand little things to tell about her teachers and her school, so that he could scarcely say a word. But he gave her a letter bearing the simple inscription “Armenouhi.” She opened it and near the bottom in a large boyish hand read Takvor’s name.

“I am going to England to study,” the letter concluded, “but I shall always think of you, and when I return my first wish will be to see you. If you ever need me, send for me and I will come.”

“Dede,” she said finally, looking up into the old man’s face, after finishing the letter.

“Yes, child.”

“Why doesn’t Takvor come to Ak Hissar again?”

“He came, but you were not there; and so he sent you the letter.”

Armenouhi’s eyes returned to the paper in her hand, and once more there was silence.

“Dede,” and again she looked into his face.

“Yes, child.”

“Am I going home for the long summer vacation?”

“No, child; not if Hassan is there.”

“Must I stay here in school all summer?”

“Yes, Armenouhi, it would be better.”

Again a silence.

“Dede.”

“Yes, child.”

“May I spend the summer with Aunt Vartouhi in Stamboul?”

“Perhaps,” replied Dicran, smiling in sympathy with her unspoken thought.

Again Armenouhi threw her arms about his neck, and called him her dear, good Dede.

When Dicran was gone, she read the letter over and over until she could repeat it by heart. It was the first she had ever received, and she put it away between the leaves of her book with the anemones and the red ribbon.