426
LEAVES
FROM
NANNY
WILD’S
DIARY.
wonder where my eyes were that I did not find
it out before you mentioned it. Don’t you think Nan a little queer?"
“She’s always that. Ugly everyway, hey?" replied Grace.
What a monster I must seem to people! ugly everyway! Yet, much of it is because I am mis understood. I will drink peace from that thought. What are mere gifts, qualifications, my dear un conscious sister, compared with the wealth of love you daily receive, yet are never thankful for?
Almond Grove, 1855.
Many a line of painful history have I traced on your patient, face, my pale, silent friend, and many more are yet to come, I fear.
The years go by, and I am still alone. People usually deem long life desirable. At sixteen I am the same, homely, unattractive creature, who, at mine, wondered why her mother turned from her proffered kiss. Alas. I am led through many a pain to wish myself the ignorant little being ; not as its primary good) to Win to my heart the of that misty period! “You can never fade," promised that humorous schoolmate, as his fine eye danced with fun.
Fade! Ah! there is worse fading than the daily slipping away of the cheeks' carmine of the eyes' brightness of the skin's lily fairness, of the hair's luxuriance and gloss, of the figure's graceful roundness.
with streaming eyes.Oh! to be alone—alone when the crushed tendrils of the heart are forever reaching upward for the dew they parch for but can never obtain. I long for my father's return. Will he love me? Will he receive my heartfelt welcome? I was only five when he left home. Will he wonder I have no dresses made i of the rich silks he sent home for me? He shall never know that Grace has had them all fitted to g her. To be sure she does honor to them that I g could not: besides “mine and thine" are distinctions I can never bring myself to make. But to have given her those articles myself would have been a happiness to me. Yet, mother may have done right in withholding them from me. (I must not descry spots in the face of my sun, I had far rather bask in its brightness. although its beams fall only indirectly upon me).
How have those years of absence dealt with father? He used to call in tones that made me laugh, “his little scarecrow.” He will find his scarecrow different. only in size.
Grace is nineteen, and redolent in beauty. Mr. Bright is still her admirer. She treats him variously, It is plain she does not quite discard him, nor does she any of her admirers. She is the belle and beauty for many, many miles round. I am very proud of her; my love for the beautiful being very intense. But I must leave you here alone, diary. Nurse wants me to go to a prayer meeting with her.
Almond Grove, a month later.
How lovely is the day, beautiful with sunshine, and reaches of deep, blue sky, and perfumes redolent of flowers in their richest bloom! How much poetry, and prayer, and praise their is in such a day!
From afar, like discontented spirits, come on the breeze to me, the roar and turmoil, and dis cord of the city; and yet, distinctly, softly sweet the murmuring waves will have their anthem heard by one who loves the music well. How glad, how bright and beautiful nature looks to me. Truly my soul is reveling in a baptism that, a month ago, I did not dream could be mine. The glories of a second birth have placed me in a new life. Discontent, envy, vain-longings have fled. As heretofore, I will strive (yet not as its primary good) to win to my heart the heart of the being I so dearly love; I shall probably be disappointed. but I will labor to wear my trouble well. She and Grace only deride my new faith. I will not intrude it upon them, but let my daily life but prove its worth and reality. Oh! could they be happy as I. How glad dear old nurse is I have come out of darkness into marvelous light. I agree with her that it was no little thing to stand upon the threshold of life, looking willfully with bursting heart afar upon a long reaching future bare of glad pro mise. But the wounds of my crushed heart are healed. The Good Shepherd has passed near and touched them. Preceding me into the waters was the figure of Frank Lee, thoughtful, subdued, with a martyr’s look of exultant faith upon his fine countenance. I hear he will study for the ministry. His family deride the idea, being exceedingly aristocratic and worldly- but he is firm in the plan. May God help and prosper him! I am certain that Grace fancies him above Mr. Bright. This gentleman begins to look dissatisfied—his long wooing does not pros per as he had hoped.
A month later.
He is here—my father—my father! How I love him! He has but just come—hardly an hour since. I watched long at the turn in the road, wanting a good, unseen look into the face that always beamed kindly into mine in infancy, and which I had kept in such fond remembrance. The old kind look was there, but lines, care and India sun had done their worst upon it. He left the corner, preferring to walk toward his home and note the changes time might have made in
