I suppose John's talk to-day annoyed me because I'm in such a restless mood--waiting for the barriers to fall, for the glorious life ahead of me to open. How could he expect me to feel as in the days when we were boy and girl, when we dreamed foolish dreams about each other, and were romantic, and young? I have changed since then, I have a thousand things to think about in which he doesn't sympathize; if I answered his words at random it was because I couldn't fix my mind upon them. I drew a long breath when he left me--when I escaped the tender, perplexed question of his eyes.
It's true; I'm not a bit sentimental. I used to think I was, but now I feel sure that I could never love any one as John loves me.
But I mustn't drift away from him. I remember so many things that tie us together, here in this strange, stormy city. What happy times we used to have! He'll understand better by and by, and be less exacting.
But I can't marry; I must be free to enjoy the victories of my beauty; I told him at Christmas that I can't marry for a long, long time.
I've been trying to read, but I can't. Pale heroines in books are so dull!
Last night came the Van Dams' dance and my triumph--and a greater triumph still; for to-day I have a wonderful, beautiful chapter to add to my own book, to the story of the only woman whose life is worth while.
I see the vista of my future, and--ah, little book, my eyes are dazzled! A rich woman would be a beggar, a clever woman a fool, an empress would leave her throne to exchange with me. Nothing, nothing is impossible to the most beautiful woman that ever lived, whose life is crowned by love. Love is all; all! In a palace without Ned I'd weep myself blind; with him a desert would be Eden. Love is all!
The General invited me ten days ago, the afternoon when--when John Burke-- poor John!---scolded me about the photographs.
"Just a 'small and early,'" she said, broaching her errand as soon as she had fairly driven John off the field--there was just the faintest suggestion of relief in her tone--"Peggy's mother's giving it--Mrs. Henry Van Dam."
She looked at Aunt with an assurance as calm as if there were no interdict upon social experiments.
"Impossible!" gasped Aunt, glancing despairingly in the direction in which her ally had disappeared. "Why, Nelly doesn't leave the house; I've stopped her attendance even at Barnard."