and when father seemed sorry and said I missed it, I told him I would not sell myself for gold alone.  I’d run away first and go after Tom.  Then Guy Thornton came, and—­and—­well, he took me by storm, and I liked him better than anyone I ever saw, and I married him.  Everybody said he was rich, and father was satisfied and gave his consent, and bought be a most elaborate trousseau.  I wondered then where the money came from.  Now I know that Tom sent it.  He has been very successful with his mine, and in a letter to father sent me a check for fifteen hundred dollars.  Father would not tell me that, but mother did, and I felt worse, I think, than when I heard the sobbing.  Poor Tom!  I never wear one of the dresses now without thinking who paid for it and wrote, “I am working like an ox for Daisy.”  Poor, poor Tom!

OCTOBER 1, 18—.

I rather like writing in my journal, 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 hard.  I do not deserve it.  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 anyone else.  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 anybody to kiss me; 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 man!  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 other man besides Guy and Tom!

It is pleasant here at Elmwood, only the house is not as grand as I supposed, and there are not as many servants, and the family carriage is awful poky.  Guy is to give me a pretty little phaeton on my birthday.