On the last night of the year, as was her wont, she made her summing-up:
“Within a few hours of eight years ago,—the window,—and
‘May the New Year cherish—’
I don’t think there are any ‘hopes that now are bright.’ I believe I have been growing downwards in some ways. The simply quiet and comfortable, with no bother of any kind, seems to be about my ideal now.”
And this on the eve of the ‘Edinburgh Fight’!
The truth is S. J.-B. was in one of those backwaters of life which may at any moment give place to the swift rush of the current. She was living a great deal, of course, in the life she had left behind. On January 4th she writes to Dr. Sewall:
“When I find time I mean to write to your cousin.... I am sorry for W., he is a very nice boy. But, dear me, they do seem such a pair of children.
I don’t think she will get a nicer man, but of course that is nothing if she doesn’t love him. I quite agree with you, ‘Never marry if you can help it’!”
And, in the depths of her mind she was constantly pondering the problems and mysteries of our being.
“Jan. 21st. [Diary] 29!—‘et praeterea nihil’!”