CHAPTER VII.
LOVE is ALL!
Thursday, Jan. 30.
I've been trying to read, but I can't. Pale heroines in books are so dull!
Last night came the Van Dams' dance and my triumph—and a greater triumph still; for to-day I have a wonderful, beautiful chapter to add to my own book, to the story of the only woman whose life is worth while.
I see the vista of my future, and—ah, little book, my eyes are dazzled! A rich woman would be a beggar, a clever woman a fool, an empress would leave her throne to exchange with me. Nothing, nothing is impossible to the most beautiful woman that ever lived, whose life is crowned by love. Love is all; all! In a palace without Ned I'd weep myself blind; with him a desert would be Eden. Love is all!
That blessed dance!
The General invited me ten days ago, the afternoon when—when John Burke— poor John!—-scolded me about the photographs.
"Just a 'small and early,'" she said, broaching her errand as soon as she had fairly driven John off the field—there was just the faintest suggestion of relief in her tone—"Peggy's mother's giving it—Mrs. Henry Van Dam."