Robert is going today, and with him goes the brightness. We have had such a glorious two weeks of constant companionship. We will be reunited soon, though, for he is going up into Canada to find a quiet, country home where we can spend the best month of the whole year—beautiful, hazy October. I am supposed to be going to New York.
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
September 3.
Florence is here and I have taken her into my confidence, not from choice, but because it seemed necessary. I am sure she loves me just as well as before, but she says it is wrong, all wrong. That I am making the greatest mistake of my life; that no man is worthy of the sacrifice, and that in time, even though he is true now, he will weary of me. Ugh! “She made me to shudder and grow sick at heart.” But I do not believe it. Is he not my “Roumald,” I his “Clarimonde”? How many times he has said, “To know you is to know all women.” And that satiety itself I set on fire.
September 30.
At last, at last! I leave on the North-West today for the “Soo,” where Robert joins me, and together we go to Collinwood, on Georgian Bay.
He found a beautiful country home near there, which is ideally quiet and overlooks the Bay.
October 2.
We are on our way. Oh, the joy of this trip, the perfect contentment. Robert’s face has been radiant with happiness all day. When I see him in his strength, and manly beauty, enjoying God’s choicest gift, good health, and know that I am the cause, should I not rejoice?