Part 14 (1/2)
The transformation was slow at first. The beginning--such an anxious time.
Every day I studied myself and watched and waited for the first sign of growing grace, for the dawning glory. Sometimes I thought I could see the change already under way, and then again the same plain Nelly Wins.h.i.+p looked at me from the uncomplimentary gla.s.s, and away flew all my hopes.
It was the fading of a little scar on my thumb that first let me know the blessed truth. Now I can scarcely see the place where it was, and I'm sure no one else would notice it. It will never go away entirely. Prof.
Darmstetter says I am not proof against wounds and old age, because these are a part of Nature's great plan. But it faded, faded!
And my ears! How I used to hate their prominence! But soon they snuggled closer to my beautiful, beautiful face--and I'm in sure I don't blame them. Every morning when I woke, my s.h.i.+ning eyes and the bloom of my cheeks told me I was growing perfect, just as he said I must do. Though I'm not yet quite perfect.
I could sit at my gla.s.s and look for hours at my reflected image--if it weren't for Kitty--and--
Why, it seems like another girl, and such a girl as never the world saw before--not me, but Her. Sometimes times I fear Her; but oftener and oftener, as I get used to the lovely vision, I want to hug Her right out of the cold mirror and kiss Her and pat Her smooth cheek like a child's, and put pretty clothes upon Her, as if she were a doll.
And then I try to realise that Her is Me, my own self, and I just cannot believe it! I look from the reflected image to a little photograph of the Helen Wins.h.i.+p I once knew, and back again to the gla.s.s, and wonder, and thank G.o.d, and shudder with awe of my own loveliness. I luxuriate in it, I joy in it, I feel it in every fibre of my being. I am as happy as a queen.
I am a queen--or She is.
I am but slightly taller. My form is more rounded and of better mould, but I am still slender. My face is the same face but--how can I express it? A Venus with the--the expression of a Western schoolgirl pursuing special studies in New York, looks at me with Her eyes. They are the eyes of Helen Wins.h.i.+p, but larger and fuller orbed and more l.u.s.trous, with an appeal that makes me fall in love with myself, as I look. The nose is longer and straighter, the cheeks fuller and fairer, the chin daintier, the neck--ah, well, why shouldn't I be frank? I am beautiful!
And the complexion--still so strange I do not say ”my complexion”--clear, fair, rosy all in one, with the fineness and purity of a baby's; it is the most indescribable of all the marvels that glow in my gla.s.s. Before, I had the rather sallow, powder-excusing skin of so many Western girls. Now it is perfect. I love to gaze by the hour at my own beauty. I should be renamed Narcissa.
My voice, too, is glorious. I have to school myself not to start at the sound of it when I speak. And most of all, what most impresses me when I try to consider myself fairly--candidly--critically--is the appearance of strength, of health, of unbounded power and deathless youth--as if the blood of generations of athletic girls and free, Viking men ran in my veins. I am, I believe, the only perfectly healthy woman on earth.
Will the G.o.ds smite me for my happiness? Are they jealous? Ah, well, I have never lived until now, and if I can stay a little while like this, I shall be satisfied; I shall be ready to die. If only beauty does not vanish as suddenly as it came! If it did, I should kill myself.
There are disadvantages. Such a time as I'm having with my clothes! Money to buy new is not so plenty as I could wish, though the $75 a month that Father sends was more than enough until the change. I'm saving to buy a microscope--a better one than those loaned to students at the laboratory; so I have to let out and contrive--I who so hate a needle!
And the staring admiration that is lavished on me everywhere! I suppose I'll get used to it; but it's a new experience. I like to be looked at, too, much as it embarra.s.ses me. My loveliness is like a beautiful new dress; one is delighted to have it, but terribly shy about wearing it, at first.
Admiration! Why, the mystified music master is ready to go down on his knees to me, the janitor and the page boys are puzzled. I wonder--I wonder what John will say, I almost dread to think of his seeing me so; yet it will be the greatest test. Test! I need none!
The girls in the laboratory are divided between awe and envy, and Kitty Reid--poor Kitty! She began by being puzzled, then grew panic stricken.
The first time she noticed--I shall always remember it--was when I came in from the college one day, still skeptical of change, yet hoping it might be so.
”Why, you've a new way of doing your hair--no; same old pug--but somehow-- you're looking uncommon fit to-day,” she said glancing up from her drawings.
My heart leaped for joy. It was true then! It was true! But remembering Miss Coleman, I forced myself to reply as quietly as I could:--
”My genius must be beginning to sprout.”
A little later Kitty was in constant mystification.
”How do you do it?” she would demand. ”What have you got? Can't you let me into the secret? I just think you might introduce me to the fairy G.o.dmother.”
If I were to tell any one, it would be Kitty, of course. Such a dear little red-headed angel she would make! But it would not be fair to Prof.
Darmstetter. He is not ready yet. So I can only sham ignorance and joke with her about milk baths and cold cream and rain water. Now that she has reached the stage of fright, I have great fun with her.
”The age of miracles has come again,” she says a hundred times a day. ”I can't believe my eyes! How is it that you are growing so beautiful? Is it witchcraft?”
”Am I better looking?” I inquire languidly. ”Well, I'm glad of it. I had an aunt who was well-favoured when she was young; it's high time I took after her, if I'm ever going to.”