Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-03-29
| teens and the first keen delight Of wearing a
gold watch which mother gave me on my thir-

teens and the first keen delight of wearing a
gold watch which mother gave me on my thir-
| teenth birthday
Later dreams were Of philanthropic revolu-
tions. was to be the guardian angel of a
| great district in the poorest part of London.
saw myself walking in streets and alleys where
| the police hardly dared to enter. 1 saw myself
visiting the hospitals, carrying good tidings to
the dying: My heart swelled at the thought OF
the good would do when grew up if mother
money how liked.
Some foolish chattering maid servant had
told me that should be RICH that 1 should
have my own independent fortune when grew
up
There were other visions that indicate sub
stratum of inordinate vanity under all my girl
ish shyness
could not take up an art without dreaming
.hat was going to excel in it. If l got on
1alriy well with my practice of the Pastorale
or the Pathetique fancied that l was going
to work on until became second Schumann
or Essipof. If just managed to paint a little
ater-colored sketch Of the river or the vii
iage-the gable end of a cottage and a bit of
garden-a backwater under the willows-I saw
before my eager footsteps a long, bright road
Leading to dazzling temple, where Fame sat
ready with garlands and trumpets and gold
medals, ready to pronounce me second only to
Mlllais for figure and landscape.
Idle, idle dreams. They have all fled long
things-gone to the great rubbish heap where
some of my dearest dolls are rotting. hope and
believe that l am cured of silly vanities and
that am fairly sensible young woman, quite
aware OF the difference of my dream nose-a
perfect Grecian-and my real nose-a very
toierable retrousse-quite aware that a COM
plexiOn powdered with freckles every summer
can hardly be considered alabasrer-mv dream
self had distinctly alabaster complexion. In
a word, am aware of all my SHORTCOMINGS
mental nd 1o1 %
them. All ask in life is to live always with or
very near mother, to be happy and the cause
OF happiness in others.
Is that too much to ask. wonder, in a world
so full OF suffering? fear it is. If one had
newly alighted upon this earth in some tropical
valley. or by some Italian lake, one would sup
pose it world made only for bliss. Who would
suspect earthquakes, or disastrous tempests,
floods, disease and famine, poisonous serpents
and savage tigers, upon SO fair planet? Who
would ever guess. new to the scene, that the
majority of mankind are full of trouble as the
sparks fly upward?
No, there was never a more idle thought
than that of mine which dwelt so obstnately
upon the one half hour / spent with Mr.. Flor
estan tete-a-tete upon the terrace. don't be-
lleve it was more than twenty minutes. know
made myself excessively disagreeable i'll order
that he should not stay too long was seized
with an attack of prudishness, I'm afraid; for
after all it could not have been very bad man
ners to give visitor a cup Of tea in my
mothers absence.
Fountanhead is empty now. I hear the
FLASHING OF the fountain when I walk in the
shrubbery. The trees were planted the autumn
after my fathers DEATH when my mother was
just well enough to be wheeled about in her
bath chair to watch the planting 1 can see
her face now at it looked then, pale as marble
and without a smile. The trees have grown
ever so big, chestnuts red and white, acacias.
mountain ash and copper beech, conifers of
every kind. tremulous birches, silvery white in
sunshine or moonlight 1t is a delightful
shrubbery, arranged In careless-seeming curves.
and with labyrinthine paths, and here and
there rustic bench and in one deep wooded
nook rustic summer house.
At a season like this, when the glare on the
terrace is almost too much to be endured even
by sun worshiper like me, bring my books
and my work to the summer house, am
writing in it now-and the dogs find me and we
make ourselves at home here, aloof from all
the world.
There is no sound but the plash of Mr..
Florestan's fountain and the song of the
thrushes which revel in this shrubbery. The
nightingales are gone already. How soon the
glory OF summer dwindles away.
1t must be horribly warm in Paris at this
season, and 1 read in the papers that the city
IS given over to the summer tourists. Yet l
suppose Mr.. Florestan prefers Paris to Buck
inghamshire.
In all probability he has gone off with the
rest of the great world and is taking the waters
at Vichy or Royat or away in that wonderful
mountain region in the Pyrenees, where heal
ing and beauty go hand in hand
Wherever he may be am glad we are here
Uncle Ambrose pleaded hard for the English
Lakes. He had all but taken house at Gras-
mere; but mother and l both wanted to come
home, and We are home and We ought to be
happy.
/ wish Uncle Ambrose were happier. It
m tn COG hiatt no Of loo -
has not brought him happiness Mother is so
attentive to him, SO full of tenderness and fore
thought-but know, know it is not love that
she gives him, and his heart hungers for love.
pity them both. Yes; it is just that-the one
thing wanting. 1t is the little rift within the
lutte.
Oh. Diary of mine, 1T is an evil thing to
marry without love. The more / think of
mother and her second husband, and the more
think of Cyril and myself. the more 1 feel
that 1t is an evil thing 1t is unmitigated evil
to marry man to whom one cannot give ones
whole heart.
pray God every morning and every night
that may grow fonder of Cyril-that may
learn to adore him between now and our we'd
ding day. An engaged girl once told me that
she did not care a straw for her fiance when she
accepted him. She only thought that it would
be nice to be married and have a house of her
own. and she had visions of her trousseau, and
her mother had promised to give her half her
diamonds when she married-all sorts of self
lsh considerations but by the time she had
been engaged to him three months she felt
that she could beg her bread barefoot through
the world with him. That was her way of
putting it,
, Cyril is clever, generous minded, good look
ms He is a fine tennis player; he SOULS
splendidly. A girl ought to find it easy to
adore him. What can want in a lover if l
am not satisfied with him? Do l expect to
marry demi-god?