I am not in love yet, little diary, and I want you to bear witness to this fact. There is a man whom you do not know, and to whom I shall introduce you now, for if I can convert him to my way of thinking by the end of this year, I shall not have lived in vain, and I shall have much to tell you about him as the days go by.
He is married, this man of whom I speak. That in itself would preclude the possibility of my loving him now, or falling in love with him in the future.
He has a lovely wife and one child. He speaks of her often and dwells on her excellent qualities, until I too love her.
He loves her? Maybe he does, but I fear he does not, not to the fullest extent. It must be my work of this year to teach him the error of his way. He has never by word or action intimated that he cares for me, but I am sensible, not conceited, and know he is—well, he likes to tell how happy he is, too well. People who are thoroughly happy give no thought to the opinion of the world, but live only in the sunshine of their beloved’s presence. I think my task will be a delightful one. He is awfully good looking, very tall and well developed, polished and withal so interesting. It was strange how we became interested in one another the very first night of our meeting. That Thanksgiving ball will be a memorable one. How striking he looked in his full dress suit and how perfectly he dances! I wonder what New Year resolutions he has made. I mean to ask him, if he is at the dance tonight. No, I guess I won’t either; men are conceited and he might think I had been giving him rather more thought than mere casual acquaintance would warrant. Perhaps he doesn’t realize his danger. Well, I must retire now to pleasant dreams.
January 2.
Oh, what a grand time I had last night. I was the belle of the ball and Mr. Forsythe said he never saw me so radiant. I felt a little as if I ought not to allow him to say it, but I couldn’t really find a reason for criticising him for what many others said, and then, too, if I assume that he is doing wrong, when he may never have thought of it, I shall spoil all my chances for doing good. I know I did look my best, for that clinging black crepe gown is most becoming. I wonder how Nell is progressing with her affair. Somehow she doesn’t seem to me to be looking very happy.
January 6.
I didn’t intend to neglect you so soon, my father confessor, but I have been so busy and so tired at night that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I want you to be as much of a credit to me in appearances as my own deeds are to be.
There has been nothing of vital importance to set down here this time. I had a long talk with Nell Sears today and I conjectured correctly about her being unhappy. She is engaged to Professor Kurtz, but he says it is impossible for him to marry her publicly, as long as he teaches in the University, for they would discharge him. That seems queer to me. I think I shall investigate the matter for my own satisfaction, for who knows, a Professor might propose to me sometime. He wants her to marry him quietly, and she doesn’t want to do it I wouldn’t if I were she. A society girl in her position would run a great risk, I think.