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Am o r e p a s s i o n a t e d e c l a r a t i o n of love would be hard to find, and Dolly and Zane began to plan marriage in earnest. This was to be a complete commitment not just to each other, but also to a literary life. Zane would close his dental office and move to Lackawaxen, where he would work on his second novel. Dolly would complete her studies at Columbia. She was in her last semester there, but had difficulty concentrating on her classes. Her mind was filled with happy fantasies of marriage, but doubt crept in. When they first met she was one of many women in his life, and he was one of many men in hers. She had eliminated her other suitors, but despite his protestations she was not sure if he had as well. She had no desire to be one of many, and her suspicions and occasional unpleasant knowledge of other girlfriends brought worry, sleeplessness, arguments, and illness. She knew that he relied on her for advice and encouragement, and she felt she must always demonstrate faith and trust. D E C E M B E R 2 5 , 1 9 0 4 Dear Pearl, Your letter was my best Christmas present. I cannot attempt to tell you how much it meant to me. It gave me the same feeling as I had when you put “Betty Zane” into my hands last Christmas—it made me cry. Oh, Pearl, I hope I’ll always be to you what that letter expressed. Sometimes I fear I’m not worthy to { 31 } 1905–1906 c h a p t e r 2 The Eternal Feminine hold so high a place in your life, for after all I’m only a woman and dependent for love, life even, on you. But strange to say, rather than be your ideal, I’d be your wife for an ideal cannot participate in all the everyday sweetness of such a relation. Can I be both? When I think of my petty jealousy and selfishness (for so I must call it) I am afraid. I realize that I have failed you lately—that I have fallen below your standard. I can only plead illness as my excuse. What right have I to be dissatisfied that I cannot have you right away? The thought that you care for me above all other women ought to be enough. . . . Ever your Dolly But she could not deny her feelings. J A N U A R Y 1 5 , 1 9 0 5 Dear Doodles, . . . . I went with Mrs. Isler to see Lohengrin last night.1 It is a beautiful opera. I analyzed my feelings very particularly and found nothing of what you claim music arouses in people. Perhaps I did long for you a little more, but the place caused that as much as anything. In one way it taught me a lesson. The story, briefly, is this: Elsa of Brabant has been accused of murdering her brother. She calls for a knight she has seen in her dreams to come and fight for her, and Lohengrin appears, vanquishes her foe, etc. He falls in love with her and they are married, but he tells her that she must never ask where he came from or who he is. But she, incited by Ortrud, cannot conceal her curiosity and anxiety, does ask him, and he has to leave her. That’s where my lesson comes in. It’s always the “eternal feminine” the world over. A woman is a woman and as such has faults that are hard to overcome. She may trust a man fully, but yet worry and fuss and feel unhappy in spite of it. I guess that’s my case. But I’ve made up my mind that I’m a fool and I will stop it. Only you must have patience. The thought, which will come once in a while, that I might lose you, or that either of us might die before I get you, sets me crazy. In one way, I cannot understand it. What is there in being married that makes such an enormous difference in my mind? If I had to die tomorrow, I could die in peace if I were married to you, and in torture if I weren’t, and I’d feel the...

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