Later: Adrian has disapeared. The manager has just called up, and with shaking knees I went to the telephone. Adrian went to the mill a little after ten, and has not been seen since.
It is in vain I protest that he has not eloped with me. It is almost time now for the Matinee and no Adrian. What shall I do?
Saturday, 11 P.M. Dear Dairy, I have the meazles. I am all broken out, and look horible. But what is a sickness of the Body compared to the agony of my Mind? Oh, dear Dairy, to think of what has happened since last I saw your stainless Pages!
What is a sickness to a broken heart? And to a heart broken while trying to help another who did not deserve to be helped. But if he decieved me, he has paid for it, and did until he was rescued at ten o’clock tonight.
I have been given a sleeping medacine, and until it takes affect I shall write out the tradgedy of this day, omiting nothing. The trained nurse is asleep on a cot, and her cap is hanging on the foot of the bed.
I have tried it on, dear Dairy, and it is very becoming. If they insist on Switzerland I think I shall run away and be a trained nurse. It is easy work, although sleeping on a cot is not always comfortible. But at least a trained nurse leads her own Life and is not bully-ed by her Familey. And more, she does good constantly.
I feel tonight that I should like to do good, and help the sick, and perhaps go to the Front. I know a lot of college men in the American Ambulence.
I shall never go on the stage, dear Dairy. I know now its decietfullness and visisitudes. My heart has bled until it can bleed no more, as a result of a theatricle Adonis. I am through with the theater forever.
I shall begin at the beginning. I left off where Adrian had disapeared.
Although feeling very strange, and looking a queer red color in my mirror, I rose and dressed myself. I felt that somthing had slipped, and I must find Adrian. (It is strange with what coldness I write that once beloved name.)