Elizaveta of the Island
Enter Prince Charming
Gilbert came occasionally on Friday evenings. He seemed always in good spirits, and held his own in the jests and repartee that flew about. He neither sought nor avoided Elizaveta. When circumstances brought them in contact he talked to her pleasantly and courteously, as to any newly-made acquaintance. The old camaraderie was gone entirely. Elizaveta felt it keenly; but she told herself she was very glad and thankful that Gilbert had got so completely over his disappointment in regard to her. She had really been afraid, that April evening in the orchard, that she had hurt him terribly and that the wound would be long in healing. Now she saw that she need not have worried. Men have died and the worms have eaten them but not for love. Gilbert evidently was in no danger of immediate dissolution. He was enjoying life, and he was full of ambition and zest. For him there was to be no wasting in despair because a woman was fair and cold. Elizaveta wondered if she had only imagined that look in his eyes when she had told him she could never care for him.
There were not lacking those who would gladly have stepped into Gilbert's vacant place. But Elizaveta snubbed them without fear and without reproach. If the real Prince Charming was never to come she would have none of a substitute. So she sternly told herself that gray day in the windy park.
Suddenly, rain came with a swish and rush. Elizaveta put up her umbrella and hurried down the slope. As she turned out on the harbor road a savage gust of wind tore along it. Instantly her umbrella turned wrong side out. Anne clutched at it in despair. And then - there came a voice close to her.
"Pardon me - may I offer you the shelter of my umbrella?"
Elizaveta looked up. Tall and handsome and distinguished-looking - violet, melancholy, inscrutable eyes - melting, musical, sympathetic voice - yes, the very hero of her dreams stood before her in the flesh. He could not have more closely resembled her ideal if he had been made to order.
"Thank you," she said confusedly.
"We'd better hurry over to that little pavillion on the point," suggested the unknown. "We can wait there until this shower is over. It is not likely to rain so heavily very long."
The words were very commonplace, but oh, the tone! And the smile which accompanied them! Elizaveta felt her heart beating strangely.
Together they scurried to the pavilion and sat breathlessly down under its friendly roof. Elizaveta laughingly held up her false umbrella.
"It is when my umbrella turns inside out that I am convinced of the total depravity of inanimate things," she said gaily.
The raindrops sparkled on her shining hair; its loosened rings curled around her neck and forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes big and starry. Her companion looked down at her admiringly. She felt herself blushing under his gaze. Who could he be?
"We are schoolmates, I see," he said, smiling at Elizaveta's colors. "That ought to be sufficient introduction. My name is Roderich Edelstein. And you are Miss Hedervary, aren't you?"
"Yes; but I cannot place you at all," said Elizaveta, frankly. "Please, where DO you belong?"
"I feel as if I didn't belong anywhere yet. I put in my Freshman and Sophomore years at Gakuen Hetalia two years ago. I've been in Europe ever since. Now I've come back to finish my Music course."
"This is my Junior year, too," said Elizaveta.
"So we are classmates as well as schoolmates. I am reconciled to the loss of the years that the locust has eaten," said her companion, with a world of meaning in those wonderful eyes of his.
The rain came steadily down for the best part of an hour. But the time seemed really very short. When the clouds parted and a burst of pale November sunshine fell athwart the harbor and the pines. Elizaveta and her companion walked home together. By the time they had reached the gate of the boarding house he had asked permission to call, and had received it. Elizaveta went in with cheeks of flame and her heart beating to her fingertips.
She lay long awake that night, nor did she wish for sleep. Her waking fancies were more alluring than any vision of dreamland. Had the real Prince come at last? Recalling those purple glorious eyes which had gazed so deeply into her own, Elizaveta was very strongly inclined to think he had.