Part 32 (2/2)

”But that,” he said, ”is the peace that touches those who live in selfish solitude. The virtue that dwells in the hearts of those who retire into hermitages is a negative virtue.”

”You speak like a seer, a philosopher,” I told him.

”Like a rational human being, I hope,” he said petulantly. ”But the thoughts are not original. I am merely echoing the opinion of sane thinkers. I have no appreciation of the foolish and useless sacrifice you are persistently making. We were not put on this planet to be dull nuns and monks. We have red blood racing through our veins and were not intended for sluggishness.”

”Yes--but----”

He went off peeved at my refusal to do as he wished.

What can I do? Shall I capitulate? I have wrestled with my desire for pleasure until I'm tired of the struggle. My old contentment has deserted me. I'm restless and dissatisfied, scarcely knowing what is right or wrong.

_Next day._

I'm happy again. Being on the fence grows mighty uncomfortable after a while, so I jumped across. I have decided to become a b.u.t.terfly!

I had luncheon to-day with Virginia. She had to run off to one of her Bridge Clubs so I offered to mend the lace on one of her gowns while she was gone. I was alone in the sitting-room that adjoins Virginia's bedroom. I love that little sitting-room. Virginia and I spend many happy hours in it when we want to get away from everybody and have a long chat. I like its big comfortable winged chairs by the cheery open fire.

I dreamed a while before the fire, the gown across my knees. It's a pink gown, that scarcely defined pink of a sea sh.e.l.l. Virginia had often tempted me to try it on and see how well I'd look in a dress of that kind. The temptation came to do it. I jumped up in sudden determination.

I _would_ put it on! I'd see for once how I looked in a real gown. I ran to Virginia's room to the low dressing table. My hands trembled as I opened the tight coils of my hair and shook it until it seemed to nod exultingly. I fluffed the curls loosely over my forehead and twisted the hair into a fas.h.i.+onable knot. Then I took off my plain blue serge dress and slipped the pink one over my head. The soft draperies clung to me, the gossamer lace lay upon my breast like a silken mist. I was beautiful in that gown and I knew it. It was my hour of appreciation of my own charm.

Later I lifted the dress and saw my plain calfskin shoes. I smiled but soon grew sober as I thought that the incongruity between gown and shoes was no greater than that between the gown and the girl--the girl who was reared to wear plain clothes and be honest and unpretentious. But honesty--that is the rock to which I cling now. I am going to be honest with myself and have my share of happiness while I'm young.

I went back again to the fire, still wearing the borrowed gown. Virginia found me there several hours later. When she came in and saw me, a gorgeous b.u.t.terfly, she said, she was very happy. She would have me go down to her mother and Royal. I shrank from it but she said I might as well become accustomed to being stared at when I was so dazzling and beautiful. I went down, feeling almost as much of a culprit as I did the day Aunt Maria surprised me at playing prima donna and marched me in to the quilting party.

Mrs. Lee was lovely. She is sure I deserve to be happy in my youth.

Royal went mad. ”Ye G.o.ds!” he cried as he ran to me and grasped my hands. ”You take my breath away! You are like this!” He seized his violin and began to play the Spring Song. The quivering ecstasy of spring, the mating calls of robins and orioles, the rus.h.i.+ng joy of bursting blossoms, the delicate perfume of violets and trailing arbutus, the dazzling shafts of sunlight pierced by silver showers of capricious April--all echoed in the melody of the violin.

”You are like that, that is you!” he said as he laid his instrument aside. His words were very sweet to me. The future beckons into sunlit paths of joy.

So I have departed from the teachings of my childhood and turned to the so-called vanities of the world. I am going to grasp my share of happiness while I can enjoy them.

When I went up-stairs again to take off the borrowed gown I was already planning the new clothes I want to buy. I must have a pink crepe georgette, a pale, pale blue--just as I'm writing this there flashes to my mind one of those old Memory Gems I learned in school on the hill.

”But pleasures are like poppies spread,-- You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow fall on the river, A moment white, then melts forever.”

I wonder, is there always a fly in the ointment!

CHAPTER XXII

DIARY--TRANSFORMATION

_December 15._

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