t
there was one letter from Vienna that made her lighter-hearted as to
that.

"My dear sweet darling," it began, "I haven't written you very often
from here, but then I don't believe you know the difference, for you
never scold at all, even if I'm ever so long in writing. And as for you,
you rascal, you write less and less, and shorter and shorter. If I
didn't know for certain--but then, of course, you love me? Don't you,
you dearest boy? Of course you do, and who wouldn't? Now don't think I'm
really so conceited as that, for I only mean it in joke, but in earnest,
I might think it if I let myself, for they make such a fuss over me
here--you never saw anything like it! The Prince von H---- told Mamma
yesterday I was the prettiest girl who had been here in ten years--what
do you think of that, sir? The officers are as thick as bees wherever I
go, and I ride with them and dance with them and am having just the
loveliest time! You don't mind that, do you, darling, even if we are
engaged? Oh, about telling your mother--no, sir, you just cannot! You've
begged me all along to do that, but you might as well stop, for I
won't. You write more about that than anything else, it seems to me, and
I'll believe soon you are more in love with your mother than with me. So
take care! Remember, you promised that night at the hop at West
Point--what centuries ago it seems, and it was a year and a half!--that
you would not tell a living soul, not even your mother, until I said so.
You see, it might get out and--oh, what's the use of fussing? It might
spoil all my good time, and though I'm just as devoted as ever, and as
much in love, you big, handsome thing--yes, just exactly!--still, I want
to have a good time. Why shouldn't I? As the Prince would say, I'm
pretty enough--but that's nonsense, of course."

The letter was signed like all the others "Good Queen Bess," a foolish
enough name for a girl to call herself, the boy's mother thought, a
touch contemptuously. She sat several minutes with that letter in her
hand.

"I'll believe soon that you are more in love with your mother than you
are with me"--that soothed the sore spot in her heart wonderfully.
Wasn't it so, perhaps. It seemed to her that the boy had fallen into
this affair suddenly, impulsively, without realizing its meaning, and
that his loyalty had held him fast, after the glamour was gone. And
perhaps the girl, too. For the boy had much besides himself, and there
were girls