"You little fairy!" he cried. "I can beat that! They are blue as bluebirds!" Then he went on impetuously, telling me I was a real bluebird of happiness, a bringer of joy; that the ancients called the bluebird the emblem of happiness, but he knew the blue of my eyes was the real joy sign—or something like that he said. It startled me. I tried to tell him he must not talk like that but my words were useless. He went on to say that the world was bleak and unlovely till I came to Philadelphia and wouldn't I tell him I care for him.
Of course I value his friendship and told him so. But he laughed and said I was a wise little girl but I couldn't evade his question like that. He said frankly he doesn't want my friendship, he wants my love, he must have it!
I felt like a helpless bird. I couldn't answer him. He looked at me, a long, searching look. Then he pressed his thin lips together, and a moment later, threw back his head and laughed his low laugh.
"Little bluebird," he said softly, "I have frightened you and I wouldn't do that for worlds! We'll talk it over some other time, after you have had time to think about it. Shall I play for you?"
I nodded and he began to play. But the music didn't soothe me as it usually does. There were too many confused thoughts in my brain. Did Royal really love me? I looked at his white hands with the long tapering nails and the shapely fingers and couldn't help thinking of the strong, tanned hands of David Eby. I glanced at the handsome face of the musician with its magnetic charm—swiftly the countenance of my old playmate rose before me and then slowly faded: David, boyish and comradely; David, manly and strong, without ever a sneer or an unholy light upon his face. Could I ever forget him? Could I ever look into the face of any other man and call it the dearest in the whole world to me? Ach—I shook my head and gathered my recreant wits together! I'd forget what he said and attribute it to the weird influence of the firelight.
I was glad Virginia came before Royal finished playing. She looked at us keenly. I suppose my face was flushed. But Royal seldom loses his outward calm. He answered her remarks in his casual way and listened with seeming interest to her plans for a pre-Lenten masquerade dance she wants to give. She has asked me to go dressed in a plain dress and white cap like Aunt Maria wears. I hesitated about it but she has done so much for me that I hate to refuse. So I've promised to go to the dance dressed in a plain dress and cap.
A little later when Royal left us alone Virginia began to speak about him. She said she's so glad we have grown to be friends, in spite of the fact that he is so much older than I am. He's thirty-seven, she told me. I'm surprised at that. I never thought he's so much older. She mentioned something, too, about his being rather a gay Don Juan. I don't know just what she means. I'm sure he's a gentleman. Perhaps she expected me to tell her what Royal said to me, but how could I do that when I think it was just an impulsive burst that he's likely to forget by morning. If he really meant it—but I must stop dreaming all sorts of improbable dreams! I've had such a glorious time in Philadelphia just living and singing and working and playing that I wish it hadn't happened. I'm frightened when I think that any serious questions might confront me here.
February 10.
I guessed right when I thought that Royal would forget that foolish outburst. He has been perfectly lovely to me, taking me out and buying me flowers and telling me about his trips, but he hasn't said one word more of sentimental nature. I'm surely getting my share of fun and pleasure these days. There are so many things to enjoy, so much to learn from my fellow-boarders and every one I meet, that the days are all too short. Between times I'm making a dress and cap for the masquerade dance. I hate sewing. I lost all love for it during my years of calico patching. But I don't mind making the dress for I'm eager for the dance, my first masquerade party. I'm hoping for a good time.
