_New York,
May._
Just back from Louisville and staying here for a couple of days before
starting for Canada. I am chuckling to myself and wondering how the
Prince and Aunt will like it, for they’ve never been camping before.
And I’m chuckling about something else, too. As soon as your letter
came, I ordered the invitations engraved, writing on from Louisville
to the stationer’s. Aunt has continued blandly obstinate, and deep
down in her heart she is still intending that this trip will give
Boris his best chance to make me change my mind--but we will see. I
asked her if we could be married as soon as you came back. She
tightened up her mouth with a crisp, “No!” Nevertheless, she can’t
stop me; I’m of age.
Then what do you think we did, Sybil, Checkers, and I? We went to our
Rector--your father’s old friend, you know he thinks everything of
your family--and he said he’d perform the ceremony. So we’ve secured
the church. We ordered the music and decorations--crimson azaleas.
Just an hour ago while Aunt was wrestling with a few last details
regarding the trip, Checkers took a traveling bag, filled it with the
invitations I had been surreptitiously addressing, and we went out and
mailed them, dancing around the mail-box till passers-by thought we
were utter lunatics.
Oh, A. D., do for goodness’ sake come home! I am so tired of waiting,
it seems as if it was impossible to stand it much longer. Don’t you
hope and pray we will live happily together? I wish we were married
now, that it was done, for in a way I do dread it. All I want is that
we may go far off into some little nook in the woods by ourselves away
from people.
Forgive this dismal letter but somehow everything makes me sad
tonight. Boris upsets me, I don’t know why. But I won’t be so any more
after you arrive. Do hurry.
But there’s one more thing, A. D., before this letter closes. The
Rector said I must tell Aunt our plans, and I promised to. I did try,
without any success, however. As we shall be traveling, she won’t see
the acceptances for some time. When I think of the inevitable
interview, I shake in my shoes. You’ll come dashing in, though, won’t
you, and rescue me?
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