28th.—­Mrs. Persico has comforted me to-day.  She says Mr. T. came to Mr. P. with tears in his eyes (could such a man shed tears?) and told him that I should be the salvation of his child—­that she was already the happiest and most altered creature, and begged him to tell me so.  I was ashamed and happy too—­but I think Mr. P. should have told him that if good has been done to Nannie, it is as much—­to say the least—­owing to Louisa as to me.  L. always joins me in everything I do and say for her, and I would not have even an accident deprive her of her just reward for anything.  Nannie sat on the floor to-night in her night-gown, thinking.  At last she said, “Miss Payson?” “Well, little witch?” “You wouldn’t care much if you should die to-night, should you?” “No, I think not.”  “Nor I,” said she.  “Why, do you think you should be better off than you are here?” “Yes, in heaven,” said she.  “Why how do you know you’ll go to heaven?” She looked at me seriously and said, “Oh, I don’t know—­I don’t know—­I don’t think I should like to go to the other place.”  We had then a long talk with her and it seems she’s a regular little believer in Purgatory—­but I wouldn’t dispute with her.  I guess there’s a way of getting at her heart better than that....  Why is it that I have such a sensitiveness on religious points, such a dread of having my own private aims and emotions known by those about me?  Is it right?  I should like to be just what the Christian ought to be in these relations.  Miss ——­ expects me to make speeches to her, but I can not.  If I thought I knew ever so much, I could not, and she annoys me so.  Oh, I wish it didn’t hurt my soul so to touch it!  It’s just like a butterfly’s wing—­people can’t help tearing off the very invisible down so to speak, for which they take a fancy to it, if they get it between fingers and thumb, and so I have to suffer for their curiosity’s sake.  Am I bound to reveal my heart-life to everybody who asks?  Must I not believe that the heavenly love may, in one sense, be hidden from outward eye and outward touch? or am I wrong?

Feb. 1, 184l.—­Rose later than usual—­cold, dull, rainy morning.  Read in Life of Wilberforce.  Defended Nannie with more valor than discretion.  This evening the storm departed and the moonlight was more beautiful than ever; and I was so sad and so happy, and the life beyond and above seemed so beautiful.  Oh, how I have longed to-day for heaven within my own soul!  There has been much unspoken prayer in my heart to-night.  I don’t know what I should do if I could have my room all to myself—­and not have people know it if even a good thought comes into my mind.  I shall be happy in heaven, I know I shall—­for even here prayer and praise are so infinitely more delightful than anything else.

3d.—­Woke with headache, got through school as best I could, then came and curled myself up in a ball in the easy-chair and didn’t move till nine, when I crept down to say good-bye to poor Mrs. Persico.  Miss L. and Miss J. received me in their room so tenderly and affectionately that I was ashamed.  What makes them love me?  I am sure I should not think they could.