Veronique said Lord Robert's valet was waiting outside the door, so I flew
to my table and began to write. My hand trembled so I made a blot, and
had to tear that sheet up; then I wrote another. Just a little word. I was
frightened; I couldn't say loving things in a letter; I had not even
spoken many to him--yet.
"I loved your note," I began; "and I think Lady Merrenden is quite right.
I will be here at twelve, and very pleased to see you." I wanted to say I
loved him, and thought twelve o'clock a long way off, but of course one
could not write such things as that, so I ended with just,
"Love from
"EVANGELINE."
Then I read it over, and it did sound "missish" and silly. However, with
the man waiting there in the passage, and Veronique fussing in and out of
my bedroom, besides the waiters bringing up my dinner, I could not go
tearing up sheets and writing others, it looked so flurried, so it was put
into an envelope. Then, in one of the seconds I was alone, I nipped off a
violet from a bunch on the table and pushed it in, too. I wonder if he
will think it sentimental of me! When I had written the name, I had not an
idea where to address it. His was written from Carlton House Terrace, but
he was evidently not there now, as his servant had brought it. I felt so
nervous and excited, it was too ridiculous--I am very calm as a rule.
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