by Elinor Glyn
CLARIDGE'S,
Sunday night, _November 27th._
Late this evening, about eight o'clock, when I had relocked my journal, Igot a note from Robert. I was just going to begin my dinner.
I tore it open, inside was another; I did not wait to look who from, I wastoo eager to read his. I paste it in:
"CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE.
"MY DARLING,--
"I have had a long talk with Aunt Sophia, and she is everything that is sweet and kind, but she fears Torquilstone will be a little difficult (_I don't care_, _nothing_ shall separate us now). She asks me not to go and see you again to-night as she thinks it would be better for you that I should not go to the hotel so late. Darling, read her note, and you will see how nice she is. I shall come round to-morrow, the moment the beastly stables are finished, about twelve o'clock. Oh, take care of yourself! What a difference to-night and last night! I was feeling horribly miserable and reckless, and to-night! Well, you can guess. I am not half good enough for you, darling beautiful queen, but I think I shall know how to make you happy. I love you.
"Good-night my own.
"ROBERT."
"Do please send me a tiny line by my servant. I have told him to wait."
I have never had a love-letter before. What lovely things they are. I feltthrills of delight over bits of it. Of course I see now that I must havebeen dreadfully in love with Robert all along, only I did not know itquite. I fell into a kind of blissful dream, and then I roused myself upto read Lady Merrenden's. I sha'n't put hers in, too; it fills up toomuch, and I can't shut the clasp of my journal. It is a perfectly sweetlittle letter, just saying Robert had told her the news, and that she wasprepared to welcome me as her dearest niece, and to do all she could forus. She hoped I would not think her very tiresome and old-fashionedsuggesting Robert had better not see me again to-night, and, if it wouldnot inconvenience me, she would herself come round to-morrow morning anddiscuss what was best to be done.
Veronique said Lord Robert's valet was waiting outside the door, so I flewto my table and began to write. My hand trembled so I made a blot, andhad to tear that sheet up; then I wrote another. Just a little word. I wasfrightened; I couldn't say loving things in a letter; I had not evenspoken many to him--yet.
"I loved your note," I began; "and I think Lady Merrenden is quite right.I will be here at twelve, and very pleased to see you." I wanted to say Iloved him, and thought twelve o'clock a long way off, but of course onecould not write such things as that, so I ended with just,
"Love from
"EVANGELINE."
Then I read it over, and it did sound "missish" and silly. However, withthe man waiting there in the passage, and Veronique fussing in and out ofmy bedroom, besides the waiters bringing up my dinner, I could not gotearing up sheets and writing others, it looked so flurried, so it was putinto an envelope. Then, in one of the seconds I was alone, I nipped off aviolet from a bunch on the table and pushed it in, too. I wonder if hewill think it sentimental of me! When I had written the name, I had not anidea where to address it. His was written from Carlton House Terrace, buthe was evidently not there now, as his servant had brought it. I felt sonervous and excited, it was too ridiculous--I am very calm as a rule. Icalled the man, and asked him where was his lordship now? I did not liketo say I was ignorant of where he lived.
"His Lordship is at Vavasour House, madam," he said, respectfully, butwith the faintest shade of surprise that I should not know. "His lordshipdines at home this evening with his grace."
I scribbled a note to Lady Merrenden. I would be delighted to see her inthe morning at whatever time suited her. I would not go out at all, and Ithanked her. It was much easier to write sweet things to her than toRobert.
When I was alone I could not eat. Veronique came in to try and persuademe. I looked so very pale, she said, she feared I had taken cold. She wasin one of her "old-mother" moods, when she drops the third personsometimes, and calls me "_mon enfant_."
"Oh, Veronique, I have not got a cold; I am only wildly happy," I said.
"Mademoiselle is doubtless fiancee to Mr. Carruthers. _Oh, mon enfantadoree_," she cried, "_que je suis contente!_"
"Gracious, no!" I exclaimed. This brought me back to Christopher with astart. What would he say when he heard?
"No, Veronique, to some one much nicer--Lord Robert Vavasour."
Veronique was frightfully interested. Mr. Carruthers she would havepreferred, to me, she admitted, as being more solid, more "_range_,""_plus a la fin de ses betises_," but, no doubt, "milor" was charming too,and for certain one day mademoiselle would be duchess. In the meanwhilewhat kind of coronet would mademoiselle have on her trousseau?
I was obliged to explain that I should not have any, or any trousseau, foran indefinite time, as nothing was settled yet. This damped her a little.
"_Un frere de duc, et pas de couronne!_" After seven years in England shewas yet unable to understand these strange habitudes, she said.
She insisted upon putting me to bed directly after dinner, "to be prettierfor _milor demain_!" and then when she had tucked me up, and was turningout the light in the centre of the room, she looked back. "Mademoiselle istoo beautiful like that," she said, as if it slipped from her. "_Mon Dieu!il ne s'embeterai pas, le monsieur!_"
