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interested in Philip。 I lived near Fairmount in the time before I
was married； and in those days he was a child。 I want him to
marry a charming girl； and be happy。〃
What made me think directly of Miss Staveley？ What made me mad to
know if she was the charming girl？ I was bold enough to ask the
question。 Mrs。 Staveley turned to me with that mischievous look
which I have noticed already。 I felt as if I had been running at
the top of my speed； and had not got my breath again； yet。
But this good motherly friend set me at my ease。 She explained
herself： 〃Philip is not much liked； poor fellow； in our house。 My
husband considers him to be weak and vain and fickle。 And my
daughter agrees with her father。 There are times when she is
barely civil to Philip。 He is too good…natured to complain； but
_I_ see it。 Tell me； my dear； do you like Philip？〃
〃Of course I do！〃 Out it came in those words； before I could stop
it。 Was there something unbecoming to a young lady in
saying what I had just said？ Mrs。 Staveley seemed to be more
amused than angry with me。 She took my arm kindly； and led me
along with her。 〃My dear； you are as clear as crystal； and as
true as steel。 You are a favorite of mine already。〃
What a delightful woman！ as I said just now。 I asked if she
really liked me as well as she liked my sister。
She said： 〃Better。〃
I didn't expect that； and didn't want it。 Helena is my superior。
She is prettier than I am； cleverer than I am； better worth
liking than I am。 Mrs。 Staveley shifted the talk back to Philip。
I ought to have said Mr。 Philip。 No； I won't； I shall call him
Philip。 If I had a heart of stone； I should feel interested in
him； after what Mrs。 Staveley has told me。
Such a sad story； in some respects。 Mother dead； no brothers or
sisters。 Only the father left； he lives a dismal life on a lonely
stormy coast。 Not a severe old gentleman； for all that。 His
reasons for taking to retirement are reasons （so Mrs。 Staveley
says） which nobody knows。 He buries himself among his books； in
an immense library； and he appears to like it。 His son has not
been brought up。 like other young men； at school and college。 He
is a great scholar； educated at home by his father。 To hear this
account of his learning depressed me。 It seemed to put such a
distance between us。 I asked Mrs。 Staveley if he thought me
ignorant。 As long as I live I shall remember the reply： 〃He
thinks you charming。〃
Any other girl would have been satisfied with this。 I am the
miserable creature who is always making mistakes。 My stupid
curiosity spoiled the charm of Mrs。 Staveley's conversation。 And
yet it seemed to be a harmless question； I only said I should
like to know what profession Philip belonged to。
Mrs。 Staveley answered： 〃No profession。〃
I foolishly put a wrong meaning on this。 I said： 〃Is he idle？〃
Mrs。 Staveley laughed。 〃My dear； he is an only sonand his
father is a rich man。〃
That stopped meat last。
We have enough to live on in comfort at homeno more。 Papa has
told us himself that he is not （and can never hope to be） a rich
man。 This is not the worst of it。 Last year； he refused to marry
a young couple； both belonging to our congregation。 This was very
unlike his usual kind self。 Helena and I asked him for his
reasons。 They were reasons that did not take long to give。 The
young gentleman's father was a rich man。 He had forbidden his son
to marry a sweet girlbecause she had no fortune。
I have no fortune。 And Philip's father is a rich man。
The best thing I can do is to wipe my pen； and shut up my
Journal； and go home by the next train。
。 。 。 。 。 。 。
I have a great mind to burn my Journal。 It tells me that I had
better not think of Philip any more。
On second thoughts； I won't destroy my Journal； I will only put
it away。 If I live to be an old woman； it may amuse me to open my
book again； and see how foolish the poor wretch was when she was
young。
What is this aching pain in my heart？
I don't remember it at any other time in my life。 Is it trouble？
How can I tell？I have had so little trouble。 It must be many
years since I was wretched enough to cry。 I don't even understand
why I am crying now。 My last sorrow； so far as I can remember；
was the toothache。 Other girls' mothers comfort them when they
are wretched。 If my mother had livedit's useless to think about
that。 We lost her； while I and my sister were too young to
understand our misfortune。
I wish I had never seen Philip。
This seems an ungrateful wish。 Seeing him at the picture…show was
a new enjoyment。 Sitting next to him at dinner was a happiness
that I don't recollect feeling； even when Papa has been most
sweet and kind to me。 I ought to be ashamed of myself to confess
this。 Shall I write to my sister？ But how should she know what is
the matter with me； when I don't know it myself？ Besides； Helena
is angry； she wrote unkindly to me when she answered my last
letter。
There is a dreadful loneliness in this great house at night。 I
had better say my prayers； and try to sleep。 If it doesn't make
me feel happier； it will prevent me spoiling my Journal by
dropping tears on it。
。 。 。 。 。 。 。
What an evening of evenings this has been！ Last night it was
crying that kept me awake。 To…night I can't sleep for joy。
Philip called on us again to…day。 He brought with him tickets for
the performance of an Oratorio。 Sacred music is not forbidden
music among our people。 Mrs。 Staveley and Miss Staveley went to
the concert with us。 Philip and I sat next to each other。
My sister is a musicianI am nothing。 That sounds bitter； but I
don't mean it so。 All I mean is； that I like simple little songs；
which I can sing to myself by remembering the tune。 There； my
musical enjoyment ends。 When voices and instruments burst out
together by hundreds； I feel bewildered。 I also get attacked by
fidgets。 This last misfortune is sure to overtake me when
choruses are being performed。 The unfortunate people employed are
made to keep singing the same words； over and over and over
again； till I find it a perfect misery to listen to them。 The
choruses were unendurable in the performance to…night。 This is
one of them： 〃Here we are all alone in the wildernessalone in
the wildernessin the wilderness alone； alone； alonehere we
are in the wildernessalone in the wildernessall all alone in
the wilderness；〃 and soon； till I felt inclined to call for the
learned person who writes Oratorios； and beg him to give the poor
music a more generous allowance of words。
Whenever I looked at Philip； I found him looking at me。 Perhaps
he saw from the first that the music was wearying music to my
ignorant ears。 With his usual delicacy he said nothing for some
time。 But when he caught me yawning （though I did my best to hide
it； for it looked like being ungrateful for the tickets）； then he
could restrain himself no longer。 He whispered in my ear：
〃You are getting tired of this。 And so am I。〃
〃I am trying to like it；〃 I whispered back。
〃Don't try；〃 he answered。 〃Let's talk。〃
He meant； of course； talk in whispers。 We were a good deal
annoyedespecially when the characters were all alone in the
wilderne