October 1st, 18—.
I rather like writing in my journal after all, 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 much. I do not deserve it, for I know I am not what they think me to be. 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, and I know it perhaps better than any one else. I do not think I am really mean or bad, but there certainly is in my make-up something different from other women. 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 any body to kiss me, especially a man, 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 husband! 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 body besides Guy and Tom!
It is very pleasant here at Elmwood, but the house is not as grand as I supposed, and there are not as many servants, and the family carriage is awful pokey. 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 any way, 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 or more. I guess I must try and do better, for both Guy and Miss Frances are as kind 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 being married, 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 is very learned, and gets up in the morning and flies round and is always ready, and reads scientific articles in the Westminster Review, and teaches in Sunday-school, and thinks it wicked to waltz, and likes to discuss all the mixed-up horrid questions of the day,—religion and politics and science and everything. 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 body very much.
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December 20th, 18—.
A horrible thing has happened, and I have married a poor man after all! Guy signed for somebody and had to pay, and Elmwood must be sold, and we are to move into a stuffy little house, without Zillah, and with but one girl, and I shall have to take care of my own room as I did at home, and make my own bed and pick up my things and shall never be ready for dinner. It is too dreadful to think about, and I was sick for a week after Guy told me of it. I might as well have married Tom, only I like Guy the best. He looks so sorry and sad that I sometimes forget myself to pity him. I am going home to mother for a long, long time,—all winter may be,—and I shall enjoy it so much. Guy says I have ten thousand dollars of my own, and the interest on that will buy my dresses, I guess, and get something for Miss Frances, too. She is a noble woman, and tries to bear up so bravely. She says they will keep the furniture of my blue room for me, if I want it; and I do, and I mean to have Guy send it to Indianapolis, if he will. Oh, mother, I am so glad I am coming back, where I can do exactly as I like,—eat my breakfast on the washstand if I choose, and sit up all night long. I almost wish,—no, I don't, either. I like Guy ever so much. It's being tied up that I don't like.