_New York,
March._
Here I am, twenty-one years old and everything to make me happy except
two little things. One is I don’t like to have that grass-widow with
her gray cat’s eyes again in Rome. She’s much too smartly dressed, and
calculating, too, yes, she is, A. D. She just goes after what she
wants, then if it’s not obtainable, takes whatever else is handy. She
may be amusing, but even if you and Peppi do rave about her looks, I
don’t think she’s a bit pretty.
And this is the other thing. Aunt has inserted a denial of our
engagement, after the nice announcement I had put in the paper. That’s
why we darted up to the Black Horse Farm last week. To get me away so
I shouldn’t see it contradicted in the Sunday papers. But Sybil did
and sent it to me. What shall I do next?
I’m grateful anyway for the dearest sweetheart in the world; that’s
more than anyone else has! This morning the sun shining brightly into
my room awoke me, and the day has turned out glorious, not a cloud in
the sky. Don’t you hope our wedding-day will be like this? Louisa
decorated the breakfast table and on it were some birthday gifts--a
pair of pretty bedroom slippers, a work-bag from Grandmother (Ahem, I
sew so much!) and a pretty cardcase from Aunt, and a little silver
coffee pot, just big enough for two, from Checkers. Aunt sniffed when
Checkers explained elaborately the two it was meant for. I believe she
is still actually set on my becoming a Princess.
And then! There lay two letters and a cable--all three from you. They
got torn open first, even before I untied the great box that contained
your roses. I put away the letters till I could take them off to my
lair, to read and re-read secretly--such dear letters and such lovely
flowers. I’d like to kiss you and tell you so this very minute, but
you’re leagues and leagues away, so there’s something lacking to my
birthday after all.
After breakfast there was business to be attended to. Now I’m of age,
Aunt is no longer my guardian. (Do you suppose she’s heaving a sigh of
relief?) So forth I sallied into town with our business man, Mr.
French--we went in a cab--quite improper, don’t you think? And at such
an early hour! Well, we got to the office and were closeted together
for ages and ages while he talked and talked and read and read again
papers and documents, I signing them above and below and around about
until my wrist ached. Then a man with a red stamp came in to help
officiate till finally we got them all fixed up. After that Mr. French
took me to a safe where there was a little tin box; here we put the
precious papers with my John Hancock all over them, and after he had
given me two keys, he left me. And what do you suppose I did? Having
for the first time a little money of my own, I went to a jeweller and
bought a very pretty ring--for Sybil. Now are you disappointed? Never
mind. Something else was bought for somebody I won’t mention.
On coming home I found, well! ! ! There are no words enthusiastic enough
to thank you for the glorious great pearl on a chain to go about my
neck. But you know that these few poor inadequate thanks come from my
heart, and hidden somewhere in them are endless devotion and perfect
faithfulness to you.
* * * * *