"Dear Ella,
Impatience is not usually my weakness. But your letters torment me. They make me long to saddle my horse and ride to Frell, where I would make you explain yourself.
They are playful, interesting, thoughtful, and (occasionally) serious. I'm overjoyed to receive them, yet they bring misery. You say little of your daily life; I have no idea how you occupy yourself. I don't mind; I enjoy guessing at the mystery. But what I really long to know you do not tell either: what you feel, although I've give you hints by the score of my regard.
You like me. You wouldn't waste time or paper on a being you didn't like. But I think I've loved you since we met at your mother's funeral. I want to be with you forever and beyond, but you write that are too young to marry or too old or too short or too hungry - until I crumple your letters up in despair, only to smooth them out again for a twelfth reading, hunting for hidden meanings.
Father asks frequently in his letters whether I fancy any Ayorthain young lady or any in our acquaintence at home. I say no. I suppose I'm confessing another fault: pride. I don't want him to know that I love if my affections are not returned.
You would charm him, and Mother too. They would be yours completely. As I am.
What a beautiful bride you'll be, whenever you marry at whatever age. And what a queen if I am the man! Who has your grace? Your expression? Your voice? I could extol your virtues endlessly, but I want you to finish reading and answer me quickly.
Today I cannot write of Ayortha or my doings or anything. I can only post this and wait.
Love (it is such a relief to pen the word!), love, love-
Char"
Ella Enchanted
by Gail Carson Levine