MRS. WOODROW WILSON 87
end, the President, Helen and I drove in to Windsor. We halted on the bridge and he leaned out and lifted the Scotch cap he always wore when driving in the open car, and said in that delightful voice that never failed to thrill me: "I am afraid we give you a great deal of trouble going back and forth so much." "Naw," she said, "it's my job." And for the first time she turned and looked at him, and, something in her responding to what he gave out, she smiled! When we drove on, Helen and I exclaimed, and the President said: "Poor old woman. Her smile reminded me of what some fellow said about another's face; that it was like 'the breaking up of a hard winter'. I think I understand how grim you must be if 'it is only your job' you are doing and you see nothing bigger ahead."
Soon after this the day came when I was to leave. Two friends of mine from Geneva, New York, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh L. Rose, were coming in their car for me and we were to motor to the Jersey coast for a week with my mother and sister Bertha and then go to Geneva where I would remain until September.
Those days in Cornish had brought the banishment of any doubt of my love for Woodrow Wilson, but had not overcome my reluctance to marry him while he was in the White House. I told him if he were defeated for re-election I would marry him, but if not I felt still uncertain of assuming all the responsibility it would necessarily bring. So the day arrived when my friends were to come to Harlakenden for luncheon, and then we were to start immediately on our journey. The day dawned clear and beautiful, and after breakfast we went on the terrace where the pouch with official mail was always brought, and where each morning we worked together on what it contained.
We followed this routine as usual, until it was finished, but there was lead in our hearts. Then we went for our favourite walk along the river. It was dreadful to leave with tio definite promise beyond what I have written; but so it