My dearest, I fear that I have made up my mind.

Yes, it is true… In this sheltered cage where everything is handfed to me, I have discovered that what I seek cannot be so easily catered. What I seek is not something that my parents' money can buy me. It is not something of the latest fashion, and I believe that it does not have a price at all. I do not desire much for fine clothes, or even the most exotic of furniture. The daily feasts that they call meals are something I could go without, and if I was given the choice, I would discharge myself from this wretched estate completely.

Outside the window the snow will not stop, my love. I gaze on, awestruck as the magnificent blanket of white spread about the solitaire pine. Snow… What I seek is like snow. It is not something that money can afford, and no matter how much money one may have to offer, there is no source from which snow may be purchased. It is a simple gift from life, a beauty beyond dollar value, a marvel that cannot be owned.

A smile naturally pulled at my lips as I pressed my fingertips against the frosted glass. It is cold; almost as cold as me. I cannot help but to watch delightedly as the snow continues to drape over the tree, which stood tall in my family's colours. It is so beautiful outside, and had I not put you away at your task, I am sure you would be enjoying this sight with me right now. But I forgot how sight is but a trivial thing to you. I forgot for a moment that you see with your mind.

As I glance over my bare shoulder to steal a glance at you, my brown eyes widen and my face glow pink. There you sit at my desk, my favourite swan feather quill in hand. You guild it across the page so quickly and so gracefully, you much resemble some beautiful native of the Atlantic waters, weaving through the waves without any trouble at all. If that quill was in my hand, it would never move so smoothly. It would stop from time to time as I desperately try to recollect the events of the day and clumsily throw them into words.

You do not seem to notice my curious eyes on you, and you do not bother to glance my way. Letting out a quiet sigh, I resume my idle observation of the outside scenery. To my dismay, I find the children from my family's visitors prancing about the courtyard, laughing and jeering at each other, and the Saint Bernards barking lowly about the midst. I inwardly dread the noise because I know of what would come to follow. With all the strength in my scrawny arms, I push open the bay window and allow the wintry air inside. I know that it would be the last bit of fresh air I will be receiving for awhile. The annual ceremony known as "Christmas dinner" will soon start, and all eyes will be on me yet again. I wish to evade such needless attention locked here in this room with you.

I am sure tonight, my family would be keeping a sharp eye out for my future husband, but I have no intentions of submitting to their will regarding to this matter. I know that if and when I descend from those dreadful flights of stairs, the loveless crowd below would sweep me away from the protection of your arms, and I will be forced to smile idiotically and entertain them as a proper hostess should. I would nod politely as the hopeless swine known as men attempt to sway me with their crude words and brute nature. They will compete with each other for my hand in marriage, but it is not out of love or even infatuation. It is out of pure greed. They seek my family's fortune…

You…you do not care for any of that filthy money. You find it all to be rather distasteful, do you not? If it were up to you, my dear, I am sure that you would live without money, without property. Yes, I am sure that you would live above the ugly shackles of greed. I am sure you would live a life untainted by the green of cash, unlike my family.

You are different from those men that will be waiting for me downstairs. Although you rarely utter the words "I love you," it is genuine and trustworthy when you do, whereas they constantly chant it like a mantra, throwing it between sentences as if some common expression of courtesy. While you would die before you allow words of flattery to drip from your mouth, they constantly shower me with compliments…compliments that hold no backing.

You see yourself as plain in appearance, and call yourself average. Those men downstairs all believe themselves to be gods in human flesh. However, they speak with the intelligence of boys, and there is no trace of eloquence in their speech. You on the other hand allow your beautiful mind to gather well-thought words and speak with just as much grace as you write. The words from your mouth are merely reflections of how gorgeous a place your mind is. I find your mind to be the most attractive quality of all.

Oh, a beautiful mind! Yet another thing my family's money cannot attract! I sigh at the thought of your voice delivering bold words that no other was capable of uttering. You are not a poet, but your way with words never ceased to sway me, and I have always fallen into your arms after a few simple murmur of my name. You keep me there with your knowledge and bind me with your wisdom, and I know for sure that I would not want to be in the arms of any other. It is you that I love, the one that could never be considered.

I shoot another fleeting glance in your direction, and still you sit, head inclined over the desk with your pretty green eyes, shielded by glass lens and attentively on the pages. I sigh again, turning back to the window. Leaning my cheek against my hand, I gaze out of the opened window. A soft, wintry breeze sweeps over my bare shoulder and brushes against my face, causing me to shiver slightly though I do not withdraw. The cold only brings back pleasant memories of you and me when we are finally left alone in peace.

Evenings passed, I was made to entertain a group of company in the parlour. While you did applause for me at the end of the piece, you did not seem impressed with how fluently my fingers moved across the ivory keys. Instead, you stood by the window, visage unchanged. You did not praise me for my skills, for you knew that they have been merely a birthday gift from my early childhood. I acknowledged the fact that they are nothing worthy of praise, and so I was not upset. Instead, I waited for my friends to leave so that I may entertain you with gifts that I acquired on my own. We retired as the rest of them did, and in this very room, you sat me by this window and we talked unreservedly about nothing at all. In our pointless conversation, you saw that my gift was nothing worth mentioning like yours. I have no mastery over the quill, but I can foolishly amuse you with much spoken nonsense. That is what I have learned all on my own, and I am proud of that more than anything because I am able to entertain you with it and you alone.

Being able to draw a genuine smile on your tired face is something I am truly proud of. It is something that is truly mine; a talent that my parents' money did not buy for me. Letting out a satisfied sigh, I pulled the window shut and got up from my station. I begin to approach you, letting the train of the gold and red gown you helped me pick out for the night drag carelessly on the floor. I hesitate for a moment in my tracks as festive voices blazed from beneath the floorboards. My early speculations are falling into place; the Christmas dinner has commenced its progress. I swallow a bit of nervousness and grab the small wooden chair by my bedside. Still you do not notice me. Dragging the chair across the room, I sat it to your left and took a seat. I wish you to steal me away from the fate that awaits me downstairs.

Letting out a sigh, I hoped to grasp your attention at last. And with a hesitating hand, I extend, only to brush the white material of your sleeve. I gaze at you with brown eyes full of uncertainty, and still you do not look at me. I am afraid to call your name and pose my question because there is a chance that your answer would not be as I hoped. I open my mouth to speak, but the words on my mind did not make a sound.

Dear I love you. Do you me?

You suddenly drop my quill and let our fingers intertwine. A smile form on my formerly uncertain face, and I am sure of it now.

What I seek is your love.