Part 19 (1/2)
Aunt is still adamant against our marriage. She says I'm to wait till we return to New York before even talking wedding or dreaming of setting a date. But she doesn't know what I've done! And that is, I've despatched you a cablegram, suggesting the thirty-first of May, tra-la! And added Checkers' news. No more tonight, for I'm sleepy, dear.
A. D. TO POLLY
_Rome, April._
I had been in bed some time, Polly my love, dozing and dreaming of you, when I heard the door in the salon open and someone knocking about in the dark, so I called out to know who it was. The half-asleep _portier_ said, ”Two telegrams, signor.” Up I got; up the light went, too. Eagerly the yellow envelopes were torn open. One was yours, ”Hurry up! Come soon. How about May 31?”
For a moment I stood dazed, overwhelmed by the thought--my wedding day! Then suddenly the realization in a great flood of happiness came over me. Oh, indeed, I'll hurry!
And the other cable? Aha! That was from my successor, the new Secretary. He has already arrived in London and stopping there for a few days' business.
Checkers and Sybil have my congratulations. They certainly have sprung a surprise.
POLLY TO A. D.
_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 surrept.i.tiously addressing, and we went out and mailed them, dancing around the mail-box till pa.s.sers-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 das.h.i.+ng in, though, won't you, and rescue me?
POLLY KEEPS A JOURNAL LETTER FOR A. D.
_Island Lake, Algonquin Park, Canada._
No nice fat Emba.s.sy letter was waiting for me at the hotel, I am sorry to say, but Aunt says we shall have time enough to get mail after the camping-trip, so there was nothing forwarded for any of us. I am going to keep this note-book with me and make a kind of diary, so as to jot down everything that happens.
A glorious morning; we started off with guides, tents, and canoes, and paddled through Cache Pond to Island Lake, our first camp, with only two short carries. Boris insisted on having me and a guide in his canoe. I won't say I haven't been flirting, but when my conscience p.r.i.c.ks me, I think of Mona Lisa in Rome with you, and go at it again.
Now aren't you sorry?
The events have begun. We struck a nice little run of rapids, and just when we got to the deepest part, the canoe slewed, hit a rock, and then over it went, and we with it. The next thing I knew, someone was dragging me up, blinking, choking, spluttering. I opened my eyes to behold my rescuer, the Prince! Don't you think, A. D., I should be properly grateful to him? He saved my life--without an instant's hesitation, Aunt says. So you see you owe your future wife's very existence to him. I've _got_ to be sweet to him, haven't I?
It is now near the end of our first day in the wilderness. I do nothing but think how good it will be to see you again. I would like so much to be in New York to greet you on the dock, but instead I'm paddling with the Prince.