OCTOBER 1, 18--.

I rather like writing in my journal, for here I can say what I think,

and I guess I shall not let Zillah make the entries. Where did I leave

off? Oh, about poor Tom.

I have had a letter from him. He had just heard of my marriage, and only

said: "God bless you, my darling little Daisy, and may you be very

happy."

I burned the letter up and cried myself into a headache. I wish people

would not love me so hard. I do not deserve it. There's Guy, my husband,

more to be pitied than Tom, because, you see, he has got me; and,

privately, between you and me, old journal, I am not worth the getting,

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and I know it perhaps better than anyone else. I like Guy and believe

him to be the best man in the world, and I would rather he kissed me

than Tom, but do not want anybody to kiss me; and Guy is so

affectionate, and his great hands are so hot, and muss my fluted dresses

so terribly.

I guess I don't like to be married anyway. If one only could have the

house, and the money, and the nice things without the man! That's

wicked, of course, when Guy is so kind and loves me so much. I wish he

didn't, but I would not for the world let him know how I feel. I did

tell him that I was not the wife he ought to have, but he would not

believe me, and father was anxious, and so I married him, meaning to do

the best I could. It was splendid at Saratoga, only Guy danced so

ridiculously and would not let me waltz with those young men. As if I

cared a straw for them or any other man besides Guy and Tom!

It is pleasant here at Elmwood, only the house is not as grand as I

supposed, and there are not as many servants, and the family carriage is

awful poky. Guy is to give me a pretty little phaeton on my birthday.

I like Miss Frances very much, only she is such a raging housekeeper,

and keeps me all the while on the alert. I don't believe in these raging

housekeepers, who act as if they wanted to make the bed before you are

up, and eat breakfast before it is ready. I don't like to get up in the

morning anyway, and I don't like to hurry, and I am always behind, and

keeping somebody waiting, and that disturbs the people here very much.

Miss Frances seems really cross sometimes, and even Guy looks sober and

disturbed when he has waited for me half an hour. I guess I must try and

do better, for both Guy and Miss Frances are as good as they can be, but

then I am not one bit like them, and have never been accustomed to

anything like order and regularity. At home things came round any time,

and I came with them, and that suited me better than this being married,

a great deal, only now I have a kind of settled feeling, and am Mrs. Guy

Thornton, and Guy is good-looking, and highly esteemed, and very

learned, and I can see that the young ladies in the neighborhood envy me

for being his wife. I wonder who is that Julia Hamilton Miss Frances

talks about so much, and why Guy did not marry her instead of me. She,

too, is very learned and gets up in the morning and flies round and

reads scientific articles in the _Westminster Review_. I asked Guy once

why he did not marry her instead of a little goose like me, and he said

he liked the little goose the best, and then kissed me, and crumpled my

white dress all up. Poor Guy! I wish I did love him as well as he does

me, but it's not in me to love any man!




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