Influence, Part II
Letter, dated one week later, post-marked from a rural town in the north.
Dear Dr. Walcott:
I am sorry for the delay in answering your letter, but I did not know exactly how to proceed. My father, Dr. Fields, is not a well man, and answering correspondence, particularly about his work, is not good for his nerves. I do not wish to press upon you unwelcome confidences, but since the death of my mother, two years ago, his health has greatly declined. He is no longer capable of reading a word, particularly on the subjects to which I believe you allude, and is seldom really his old self in conversation, either. Still, the seclusion is good for him, here in the forest, so far away from unhealthy influences, where there is a kind of silence except for the whispering of the pines. If I am too much of a realist to hope for a full recovery, I imagine the natural end of his problems may be delayed, and the magnificent, independant mind who raised me may be preserved a while longer.
I am sorry for your circumstances, insofar as I can guess of their nature. That you have realized the problem is a very promising sign. If I may be of any assistance in this matter, please let me know. I have, as you might imagine, some great experience with the topic at hand. Stephen. . . and it is important that I call you by that name . . . Stephen, remember yourself. Keep around your old friends, if it is practicable. Isolation is the greatest danger at your stage.
Yours,
Lydian Fields
Dear Dr. Walcott:
I am sorry for the delay in answering your letter, but I did not know exactly how to proceed. My father, Dr. Fields, is not a well man, and answering correspondence, particularly about his work, is not good for his nerves. I do not wish to press upon you unwelcome confidences, but since the death of my mother, two years ago, his health has greatly declined. He is no longer capable of reading a word, particularly on the subjects to which I believe you allude, and is seldom really his old self in conversation, either. Still, the seclusion is good for him, here in the forest, so far away from unhealthy influences, where there is a kind of silence except for the whispering of the pines. If I am too much of a realist to hope for a full recovery, I imagine the natural end of his problems may be delayed, and the magnificent, independant mind who raised me may be preserved a while longer.
I am sorry for your circumstances, insofar as I can guess of their nature. That you have realized the problem is a very promising sign. If I may be of any assistance in this matter, please let me know. I have, as you might imagine, some great experience with the topic at hand. Stephen. . . and it is important that I call you by that name . . . Stephen, remember yourself. Keep around your old friends, if it is practicable. Isolation is the greatest danger at your stage.
Yours,
Lydian Fields