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[From Helen's Diary.]

Edgar left me an hour ago. After he said good night, I came up to my room, took down my hair, put on a wrapper, and sat by the open window, not to think, but to feel.

After all these months of uncertainty – no, not uncertainty, for Edgar was destined to succeed – after all these months of waiting, we have reached the time when separation will soon be at an end.

I seem about to be entering on a new life, as a new woman. I am a new, an unfamiliar woman, to myself. I have not realized it until to-night. The change has been so gradual that I have not realized any difference in myself. My love has passed through so many phases.

I remember, to-night, a time when my love contained but one element – trust. I remember a particular day when love was young with me, – I went into the Enterprise office with Aunt's chronic "want," – "A girl to do general housework – references required." It was immediately after Edgar had offered himself for a target to Jack Summers. There is something glorious in a man's inviting another man to attack him – if he dares. I was thinking about it as I went up the Enterprise steps. When I entered the office Edgar sat at a funny desk with peculiar pigeon holes – he has said since that he had used it before he took the Enterprise, and though he could have had one that would have been an improvement on it, in point of beauty, he had a sort of sentimental feeling in regard to the old one. He says in times of prosperity it will be quite wholesome to look at those collar boxes, and remember the time when he was very thankful to get paper collars.

We laugh a great deal over this, and I am going to have the desk put in our – well, yes, in our room.

He sat that day by the desk, and Mose Harbell had his feet on the white-washed part of the stove, – Edgar says he always does it after his dinner, while he is preparing his most "genial" paragraphs.

A sunbeam glanced across the room, and made the frayed edge of Edgar's coat stand out beautifully, but he looked terribly clean. He didn't see me at first, and I watched him a minute as he wrote. I loved him first, for the way in which he grasped his pen. He was finishing an editorial on the lack of energy in his esteemed fellow citizens in putting down immoral enterprises that were wrecking the universe in general, and Thebes in particular. I knew what kind of an article it was, by the expression of his elbows on the desk, and the way he held his chin.

There, in the office of the Thebes Daily Enterprise, with fifty cents in one hand, and Aunt's want in the other, with Mose Harbell's feet on the stove, and the frayed edge of Ed's coat looming up in the sunlight, I, Helen Thayer, loved Edgar Braine, in the year of our Lord, 18 – . Amen.

I always feel like pronouncing the benediction when I think of that minute. It was the close of an eventless, careless, tiresome period. I sang the doxology in my heart – I said, "and thus endeth the first lesson," and a number of other appropriate, religious things like that. Well, after that, things drifted.

That evening there was a good deal about love for your neighbor – or sentiment after that pattern, in the end of that editorial. Edgar said he was three-fourths done with it when he looked up and saw me.

As the days went by, the Enterprise seemed more and more filled with the milk of human kindness. I take a great deal of credit to myself for the present exalted tone of the Thebes Daily E —. Edgar says that I have always inspired him with one great desire – to be good and honorable. He says that no good woman ever lived who did not make the best man in the world feel ashamed of himself. I am glad of this. There is something delicious in making one feel ashamed of himself.

All that time I felt a peculiar reverence for him. It was a feeling almost enervating. I felt as though walking on a tight-rope – mentally. I used to look with awe upon the dignity of those frayed coat bindings, and the bits of white where the button holes were worn – Ed called it "the towel" showing, I believe.

Then that period passed, and there came a day when he stopped in on his way from the office to see if Aunt wanted to put in her chronic want again the next evening. That day we sat in front of the fire talking for a little minute about Ed's schemes for advancing the universe generally, and Thebes, again, in particular.

Though I was feeling, as usual, on a great mental strain – as I always did when with him, and indulging in an extraordinary deference for the "towel" around the button holes, I became so enthused, and had such a desire to have a hand in advancing something, too, that I leaned forward, and he leaned forward, and – well, that ended the third lesson. We kissed each other. I have never since felt the mental strain that I did before that, when with him. Since then, we have seemed just like two human beings who lived every moment of the time when together.

There is something terribly equalizing in a kiss. With it, there came a great tenderness for him, and as we no longer seemed to be two distinct and separate beings, but just one, that tenderness extended to myself. It seemed to grow to a universal tenderness. I have even, at moments, felt tender toward Mose Harbell when passing his house, and happening to see his wife, nine children, and four dogs, his sister and his mother-in-law.

We will be married next month, – Ed and I, not Mose Harbell and I!

Ed will take to linen collars next week, and buy a new desk for the editorial sanctum; and when I am able to have a "girl," I can put in my "want" for nothing. Ed says that for a time we can put on a great deal of style in the manner of serving our meals, and therefore won't have to have so much to eat. One thing is decided; we are to have some kind of a house to live in by ourselves, instead of boarding.

Ed declares that it is but a question of time when he shall put on a fresh linen collar every day, and we shall be able to furnish four rooms of a house. At present, the editor will be very well satisfied with three – and me.

I am at once to become a member of the staff. I am going to "do" the society items. Ed says I am capable of working into such things beautifully. I am so thankful that at last I may be an assistant in advancing things. I feel that it is half the happiness of life to be able to be a co-worker with him. Last night I suggested the points for an editorial. He was amazed at its force, and delighted. I was amazed and delighted myself. I think, together, we shall be able to make Thebes something to be proud of yet. The editor says it will be such a relief to have some society notes that are not strictly "genial."

I wonder if a new thought that has taken possession of me is unmaidenly? I think not. At any rate, if it is not maidenly it is very womanly. I have a sudden longing to rear six children. I make this the limit, but I want six. A half dozen. I want to teach six children to be great and good as their father is, and I want to show their father how well I can do this. I want to instil the idea of advancement into six embryonic men and women, that in after years, when I am old, I can say to the world: "You owe me something; look at these six citizens." I think six would be a very commendable showing. I think I could feel that I had paid my debt to humanity.

I am suddenly seized with all sorts of exalted aspirations. It makes a strange difference in one, this deciding to be married.

I solemnly vow this night, that my life shall be spent in an earnest effort to emulate my husband, Edgar Braine, for so good a man does not live.