I have learned to knit. Virginia has taught me and we are elbow-deep in gray and khaki wool. I have wound it and purled it and worked on the thing till I'm tasting fuzz. But I do want to do the little bit I can to help my country. This war is a serious matter. Already people are talking about who is going to enlist—what if David would go! I hope he won't—yet I don't want him to be a coward. Oh, it's all too confusing and terrible to think long about. I try to forget it for a time by remembering that Royal Lee cares for me. He has told me over and over that he loves me. Love must be blind, for he thinks I am beautiful and perfect. I'm glad I look like that to him. We should be happy when we are married, for we are so congenial, both loving music and things of beauty. It's queer, though, I have thought of it several times—he has never mentioned our marriage. I suppose he's too happy in the present to make plans for the future. But I know he is a gentleman, therefore his words of love are synonymous with an offer of marriage. All that will come later. It's enough now just to know we care for each other.
CHAPTER XXV
DIARY—"THE LINK MUST BREAK AND THE LAMP MUST DIE"
April 13.
I'm in sackcloth and ashes. My dream castles have tumbled down upon my head and left me bruised and sorrowful. I'm awake at last! I'd like to bury my face in my old red and green patchwork quilt and ask forgiveness for being a fool. But I must compose myself and write this last chapter of my romance.
Last night the "Singer with the Voice of Gold" gave a recital in the Academy of Music. Royal and I helped to make up a merry box party. I felt festive and gay in my lovely white crepe georgette gown. Royal said I looked like a dream and that made me radiant, I know.
As we sat down I whispered to him that I was excited because hearing that great singer has always been one of my dearest dreams and now the dream was coming true. He whispered back that more of my dreams would soon come true. I made him hush, for several people were looking at us. But his words sent my heart thrilling.
The Academy became quiet as the singer appeared, then the audience gave her a real Brotherly Love welcome and settled once more into silence as her beautiful voice rose in the place. The operatic selections were beautifully rendered. I thought her voice was most captivating in the simple songs everybody knows. Annie Laurie had new charm as she sang it. When she sang that Royal whispered, "That is what I feel for you." I smiled into his eyes, then turned again to look at the singer. Could I ever sing like that? Would the dreams of my childhood come true? It seemed improbable and yet—I had traveled a long way from the little girl of the tight braids and brown gingham dresses, I thought. Perhaps the future would bring still more wonderful changes.
The hours in the Academy of Music passed like a beautiful dream. I shrank from the last song, though. It was too much like some fatal, dire prophecy: